


For Better Or For Worse

by AntarcticBird



Series: For Better or For Worse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 66,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntarcticBird/pseuds/AntarcticBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine are the perfect match - according to their test scores. Reality looks a little bit different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Arranged marriage AU. Dystopian. In this world, your spouse gets picked for you by the government. Kurt is a boy with big dreams and Blaine is McKinley High's resident bad boy. This is the story of what happens when they're suddenly thrown into each other's lives.
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful betas [Sandy](http://completelyunabashed.tumblr.com/) and [Pace](http://mailroomorder.tumblr.com), you guys are the best!

“I don't know why they have to do this before graduation, it makes no sense to me,” Kurt complains, straightening his tie in the mirror of the girl's bathroom. “Every single year they do this at the worst time and every year all hell breaks loose when people don't get who they want and we all have to watch it unraveling right before our eyes.” He groans. “This tie is all wrong. That's what I get for accidentally setting the alarm half an hour later than I meant to .”

Mercedes reapplies her lipstick, not even glancing at him. “What are you even nervous about? You'll probably get one from out of the district anyway. You'll get to call him tonight and set up a proper first date and do it all in the right order. I'll probably get Puck. Or Rick the Stick. Or Stoner Brett, oh my god, Kurt, you'll have to help me leave the state if they -”

“Hey.” He takes a step closer, placing his hands on her shoulders in a firm grip, turning her so she's facing him. “You've been with Sam for over a year now. You've listed each other as first preference. There's hardly ever a case where they reassign pre-existing functioning couples.”

“There are precedents,” she reminds him. “Remember last year?”

Kurt shudders at the memory – the head cheerleader and the captain of the football team, a couple for over two years, had been paired with people who weren't each other and it had resulted in week-long shouting matches up and down the school corridors, both of them accusing the other of listing someone else as first preference behind their backs.

“We don't know why that happened,” he says, trying to calm his own nerves. “Don't freak out before you have actually got your letter.”

“I just – What if it's not him?” Mercedes bites her lip, eyes filling with tears. “I don't want it to be someone else.”

“Neither does he, I'm sure,” Kurt says, smoothing the fabric of her dress over her shoulders. “It'll turn out all right, you'll see.”

He turns back to the mirror then to fix his hair, heart beating double time in his chest. “I really do hope they found me someone in New York,” he says. “We all know I'm going to be the wife in that relationship and I'd really hate giving up that part of my dream.”

“You don't know for sure that you'll be the wife.”

“Yes I do.”

“And so what, you can still go to college part-time even if you -”

“But not wherever I want.” Kurt sighs. “I'll have to go wherever my husband goes.” He shakes his head, frowning at himself in the mirror. “I know that this is for the best. I know it has to be this way. But I still wish I'd get some say in it.”

“Do you -” Mercedes looks at him. “If you could choose, what would he look like? What would he be like?”

Kurt shrugs. “I don't get to choose, so it doesn't matter. And I'm assuming they found me someone far away anyway.” He slumps forward against the sink. “I hate that I have to leave my dad. And all of you. I hate that there's no one here for me.”

“There's always Anderson,” Mercedes says, laughing, bumping his shoulder with her own.

“Oh dear god, please no!” Kurt shakes his head emphatically. “Isn't he in juvie anyway?”

“No, apparently, that was just a rumor. Someone else set Figgins' car on fire. I'm thinking it was Figgins himself, have you seen his car?”

“I haven't seen him around.”

“Who?”

“Anderson!”

“He's probably smoking pot under the bleachers with Brett.” Mercedes pats his hair and he glares at her, because it was perfect a minute ago. “I'm sure they'll have found some gay bank robber in a dirty leather jacket to pair him up with and you'll get a fabulous Broadway-bound New York superstar instead.”

“I love you,” he says, offering her his arm. “Shall we go, then? Get this over with?”

She smiles and threads her arm through his. “We shall.”

There's already a line of students outside Ms Pillsbury's office, waiting to collect their letters. Kurt can see a few couples already happily hugging a little further down the corridor – apparently some people do get good news out of this. It gives him hope that maybe the people in charge know what they're doing, after all.

He waits in line with Mercedes, lets her go in first when it's her turn. She comes back out only a minute later, clutching an open envelope and an already slightly crinkled piece of paper, smiling happily and nodding when she sees him, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Good for you,” he whispers, glad that this day at least brought something good for his best friend.

“I'll go outside and wait for Sam, he just texted me to say he's overslept and is running a few minutes late,” she says, then looks back at him just before his hand touches the door handle of Ms Pillsbury's office. “Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“Good luck! Come find me when you're done in there!”

“I will,” he promises, and pushes the door handle. _Someone nice and from New York, please_ , he prays silently. Knowing his luck, they will stick him with Anderson, though.

**

“What the hell, Blaine Anderson?” Kurt stares at the paper in his hand, then up at Ms Pillsbury's helpless face.

“Kurt, I don't make the pairings...”

“I'm not marrying Blaine Anderson, forget it!”

“Kurt, you know you can appeal -”

“Yeah, and what good does that ever do?” He lowers the letter, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair in frustration. “You have access to the records. Are their any other male students in the area who requested a male mate?”

“Kurt, I can't tell you that, you know that.”

“So I'm stuck with Anderson.” He can't believe it. He just can't … All his dreams of New York, his dreams of being swept off his feet by some handsome, well-educated, hopefully-passionate-about-musical-theater city boy dashed – okay, they were silly, immature dreams to begin with, but to see it in writing, that it's never going to happen... “I can't believe this.”

“I'm sorry, Kurt,” Ms Pillsbury says, and she seems to mean it.

“I have to go,” Kurt says, turning to leave, his knees feeling wobbly despite the rage coursing through him. Or maybe because of it. “I have to – I need to get out of here.”

“Do you need to go home?” she asks. “I can let your teachers know.”

“No. No.” He looks back at her, shaking his head. “No, I'm -” He doesn't want to say he's fine, because he's really, really not. But he knows none of this is actually her fault. “I'll be okay. I guess.”

And with that, he leaves, not meeting anyone's eyes when he passes the line of people still waiting outside. His life is officially ruined.

**

Blaine doesn't even turn his head from where he's lying comfortably on the ground when a great, big, looming shadow falls over him – he's pretty much been waiting for this the entire day. Classes are almost over already, he's surprised it took her this long to find him. It's not exactly a secret where he spends most of his school days when class just gets too boring for him.

“They're still going to pair you up even if you don't collect your letter, you know that, right?” Coach Sylvester's voice is as distant and bossy as ever, and he closes his eyes, grinning.

“Yup. I'm well aware. That's why I didn't bother.”

“You're not even curious?`”

“Nope.”

“Too bad. Up! Get up, come on.” She pokes him in the ribs with a dirty shoe, then does it again when he doesn't react.

“What's the point?” he asks. “It's going to happen one way or another.”

“The point is that you're coming with me to Ms Pillsbury's office right now or I'll put you in detention until the end of the school year. Oh, wait, you already are in detention for the next three years after graduation, aren't you?”

He sighs audibly, blinking his eyes open to look up at her. “Why do you care if I get my fucking letter? I don't wanna know, okay? And I'm comfortable here. Also, I'm busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Waiting for you to leave.”

Coach Sylvester shakes her head at him. “Not gonna happen.”

Blaine throws his hands up, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “Fine. Oh my god. I'll get the fucking letter and then you can get off my back, deal?”

“That was pretty much what I was suggesting all along.”

She actually follows him all the way to Ms Pillsbury's office – he has never understood her particular interest in him, not when every other teacher at this school had given up on him about two days after he got here, but today, it's especially annoying. He walks ahead of her at a brisk pace, bristling with anger. He's been dreading this day since he was old enough to understand what it really meant – he's going to be legally bound to some stranger for the rest of his days and it's probably going to be some old guy living in fucking Nebraska or something. There aren't exactly very many gay guys around here that he could be potentially paired with. Well, there's Hummel who is quite obviously gay, but also quite obviously a very good guy, and they'll probably find him a fucking Disney prince while Blaine will get the leftovers. Not that he wants them to stick him with Hummel. He may be hot, but he's not exactly Blaine's type. Much too nice.

“You don't need to follow me.” He glares back at Sue over his shoulder.

“Keep walking,” is all she says, waving him along, and he swallows down his anger and slows his pace to a leisurely walk, just to piss her off. He really just wants this over with if he's forced to do this at all. But he's almost at Ms Pillsbury's office anyway, and there's still a small line of students outside. Not as many as this morning, of course, when he'd risked a quick glance into the hallway, laughed at them, and found his usual place under the bleachers to wait until it was time to go home.

Sue leans against the far wall as he gets in line. She's pretending to study her shoes intently as he waits his turn. He is feeling irrationally annoyed and just kind of really impatient to get this over with so that he can finally go home. This is ridiculous. Maybe he just won't get paired up at all. That would actually be the best outcome. Or maybe they'll have found him someone somewhere cool, like New York or Los Angeles or just somewhere not here. Maybe there is someone out there just like him. Maybe he'll be lucky and get someone who actually likes him.

He doubts it, though.

**

“Don't you want to open it?” Ms Pillsbury asks, smiling up at him with her big, optimistic eyes.

“No,” he answers shortly, turning to walk out.

“You're not curious?”

“Look.” he turns back around, holding the letter out to her. “If you want to know so badly, why don't you open it? Because I really don't care. Nothing good can be in here, and I'd rather enjoy my last few weeks in peace, if you don't mind.”

“Maybe you'll be lucky,” she tells him, still with that annoying smile. “I was!”

“Yeah, because Schuester is a _great_ catch,” he says, unable to keep his voice from dripping with sarcasm. “I'm sure he makes a pretty little wife.”

“Blaine.” She folds her hands on top of her desk, and there's pity in her eyes. He hates that look. Makes him feel like a failure. Which he isn't. “It's okay to be nervous. This is a big day.”

“Oh, fine!” He stomps back over to the chair in front of her desk and drops into it, ripping open the envelope as soon as he's sitting. “So.” He looks up at her, putting on his best fake smile, feigning excitement. “Gosh, I wonder what could be in here. All my hopes and dreams, I bet. Do you think he'll be handsome? Maybe he even has a car!”

Ms Pillsbury just smiles back encouragingly, motioning for him to go on, and he hates that she never gets angry at him. It's no fun this way.

He pulls the letter out from the envelope, scanning it quickly with his eyes until he finds...

“No!” He jumps out of the chair, gaping at the writing in front of him. “Oh no, no way, oh no, they _didn't_ – they didn't do this. What the _fuck_! I can't believe -”

“Blaine -”

“Hummel?” He glares at her over the letter clutched tightly in his fist, crinkling under his fingers. “Did you know about this?”

“Of course not. Blaine -”

“This is not happening.”

“Kurt is a very nice young man -”

“He fucking hates me,” Blaine spits back. “He's – we have nothing in common. _Nothing_! I don't even know him!”

“He doesn't know you either,” Ms Pillsbury replies. “How do you know he hates you?”

“Oh please.” Blaine shakes his head. “You've seen him. We don't exactly run in the same circles.”

“Blaine -”

“Sorry, I have to go,” he interrupts whatever she was going to say, and storms out. He doesn't look up at Sue as he hurries down the hallway, he just needs to get out of here and go home and – hit something. He needs to hit something.

Changing his mind, he turns left instead of right at the end of the corridor, heading for the locker rooms instead of the parking lot. At this time of day, he should be alone with the punching bag for as long as he needs to calm down.


	2. Two

Kurt is standing by his locker the next morning when he sees Blaine walk past. Their eyes meet, for just a moment, Kurt opening his mouth to say something, because, really, they should at least try figuring this mess out together, but Blaine just looks away and moves on, quickly.

Kurt shakes his head, gets his history book, and makes his way to class. They're off to a great start already.

He runs into Blaine again on his way to math and then again when he's leaving the cafeteria after lunch. Each time, he attempts to speak to him, but each time Blaine basically looks in the other direction and hurries off, possibly to blow up a toilet or set fire to the gym lockers. Who knows what goes on in Anderson's head. Kurt doesn't. And he's pretty sure he doesn't want to find out.

Sadly, he kind of has no choice but do his best to get to know him now.

Life just really sucks sometimes.

**

“Aren't you going to be late for class?” his mom calls out as he tries sneaking out the front door a good half hour after he told her he'd be off.

He sighs, dropping his backpack and strolling into the kitchen, hopping onto one of the stools at the kitchen island. 

“So, I guess I'm in trouble?”

“Oh, you're in big trouble,” she confirms. “Blaine, we talked about this!”

“I only had English first period. I'm good at English.”

“Your teachers might not think so much longer if you never show your face in class,” his mom reminds him. “I don't think I have to tell you that you're -”

“You can't ground me anymore than I'm already grounded, I already can't go out before I'm 25 again.” He laughs.

She huffs out a breath, shaking her head at him. “Fine. You're on dinner duty for the rest of the week.”

“What? Mom, no!” He pouts at her, tilting his head to the side. “That's not fair, I hate cooking.”

“Blaineybear, that's basically the point of a punishment. Don't give me that look, young man.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

“No, I don't.”

“I wish you'd take school a little more seriously.” She does look sad for a moment, and Blaine feels bad. He hates disappointing her, but...

“It's boring and I don't see the point and I get good grades anyway. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I'm not unhappy.”

“No, but you're going to get married soon and I don't want you to miss out on anything just because you couldn't get your act together. I worry about you. You're a good kid. I know that. I want everyone else to know that too.”

Blaine shrugs. “I don't need anyone to like me.”

His mom just looks at him as if she wants to say, yes, you do, but instead, she just sighs and grabs something out of her purse that's resting on the counter, approaching him quickly where he's sitting on his stool.

“Hold still,” she warns, then grabs his chin to tilt his face up a little, her other hand approaching his left eye with something dark.

“What are you doing?” he asks, trying to squirm out of her grasp.

“You smudged your eyeliner,” she explains, “I'm fixing it. If you're going to use it, at least let me teach you how to apply it properly.”

“Mom, get away from me!” He pushes her hand away from his face, shaking himself free and glaring at her. “Oh my god. Don't do that!”

She laughs at him and ruffles his hair.

“Be glad I'm not making you sit down right now for a lecture and a discussion on proper punishment.”

“I thought cooking was my punishment!”

“Blaine!” She places her hands on her hips and stares at him. “Come on. Cutting school again? Do you really think you'll get off that easy?”

“Worth a try,” he mumbles.

“We'll discuss it tonight,” she says. “I need to talk to your father first.”

“Please!” He rolls his eyes. “He'll just make me rake the leaves or something. Like that ever helped.”

She shrugs. “I won't stop trying until something does.”

“There's nothing wrong with me.”

“No,” she confirms, “And that's exactly the point. So. Off to school. And go to class! I'll know if you don't.”

“Fine. Okay. Whatever.” He rolls his eyes, sliding off the stool to flee the kitchen. He won't be going to class, but she doesn't need to know that.

“I love you, you weirdo,” she calls after him, and he waves back at her before slamming the door shut behind himself.

He arrives just in time for third period – he would have been faster, but his parents took his car keys away ages ago after he'd been caught spray-painting creative messages on some jerk's car door. So he has to walk, which is okay because a) he likes walking and b) it means he's missing second period, which would have been history. Which is not a bad subject, unless the guy teaching it knows how to suck all the fun out of it completely.

As if he'd known exactly when Blaine would arrive today, Kurt is standing right by the front entrance when Blaine crosses the parking lot. For a second, he contemplates just turning around and walking straight back home, but this time his parents would probably make good on their threats of selling him into white slavery. Besides, Kurt seems persistent. Best to just get this over with, and then they can both enjoy the rest of their freedom for the next six months. While their lives are still their own.

Blaine actually already has plans with Puck to sneak off to New York and – do whatever. Just for a weekend or so. Or maybe he'll stay there and never come back, because that really doesn't seem like such a bad option. If he just moves every four weeks or so, the State Departments might get too confused to ever find him a mate. He likes the idea more and more.

Kurt spots him when he's still all the way across the parking lot, and his eyes seem to fix on him, never leaving him while Blaine approaches step by step.

“We need to talk,” is all he says, as soon as Blaine is close enough to hear him.

Blaine sighs. “Yeah. I guess. Okay, let's go then.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Lima Bean or somewhere more private?” Blaine asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. He hopes it's going to be the Lima Bean. He could use a coffee right about now and he kind of doesn't want to go to Kurt's place, and his mom will have his head if he shows up back at home after only forty minutes.

“I have class right now. So do you.”

“You said you wanted to talk.”

“I meant in general. You've been avoiding me. I was thinking after school. Or during lunch, when do you -”

“Or we could do it right now and get it over with.”

“I have class,” Kurt repeats, like Blaine hadn't heard him the first time.

“Yeah, so?” Blaine shrugs. “Come on.”

Kurt gives him a look that makes Blaine feel like he's two feet tall and sighs audibly. “Meet me back here after school. I have glee club this afternoon. I'll wait here for you afterwards.”

Blaine throws up his hands in surrender. “Fine! Oh my god. Go to class if it's so important. But you were the one stalking me all day yesterday, I just figured you were in sort of a hurry.”

“Well, this is kind of important, Blaine.”

“Whatever,” he says, and stalks off in the direction of the football field.

“Aren't you supposed to be in math class with me right now?” Kurt calls after him. “Because that's in the other direction.”

“I know,” Blaine calls back over his shoulder, grins, and walks away. He can see Kurt shaking his head at him out of the corner of his eyes.

**

He hangs out under the bleachers for the entire period, but no one else is there and he forgot his book on his bed this morning, so by the time next period rolls around, he's bored enough to actually go to class. He sits through the rest of the day, actually paying attention when he feels like it (he's not actually a complete loser, okay, he just has better things to do most of the time).

Once he's done with his classes for the day, he just sits himself down on the front steps of the school building and waits. It's going to be boring, but if he walks home, he'll have to start walking back pretty much the minute he gets there. And as much as he wants to stand Kurt up and forget about all of this, he knows they should probably figure this mess out. Then they can agree to just stay away from each other until six months from now and all will be fine. He just needs to get it over with.

He's been sitting for just a little over twenty minutes when his mom calls.

“Hey,” he says, picking up.

“I hope you just got lost on the way home,” she greets. “Remember all that stuff about being grounded?”

He huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes even if she can't see him. “Yeah, sorry about that. I have a thing I kind of need to be doing.”

“No, you don't, you need to come home right now.”

“I'm meeting up with this guy. It can't wait.”

“What guy?”

“Um, the one I'm going to marry?”

“Oh, Blaine.” His mother pauses for a minute. “You never said they gave you your letters already. Was it today? Is that why you didn't want to go to school?”

“No, it was yesterday. It's cool, mom, I just need to talk with him for a minute and then I'll be home.”

“Take as much time as you need, honey.”

“It won't take that long, I promise.”

“Blaine -”

“I mean, what is there to say? We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other eventually.”

“Blaine, this is a big deal.”

“No, it isn't.”

“Uh, yes, it kind of is. What's his name?”

“Kurt. His name's Kurt.”

“Kurt. That's a nice name.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You sound like – don't you like him?”

“I don't even _know_ him, mom. But I can guess what he's thinking about me.”

“And who's fault is that?” She isn't accusing him of anything, he knows, but it still kind of hurts.

“Don't start, mom.”

“I'm sorry. I love you, Blaine. I'm sure Kurt is going to like you once he gets to know you. Give him time, he'll see what a good guy you really are.”

“I have to go, but I'll be home in time for dinner,” Blaine says.

“You can invite Kurt along, if you want. I'd love to meet him.”

“No. I'll see you later.”

“Blaine -”

“See you later mom.”

She sighs. “Fine. See you later. And Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't do anything – stupid.”

He laughs. “I'll try.”

**

He has his eyes closed, face turned up toward the last rays of sunlight of the afternoon, when Kurt's shadow falls over him.

“So,” Kurt says, without preamble. “Lima Bean?”

“Let's go,” Blaine agrees, jumping up and glancing back at Kurt as he starts walking. “Why does glee club take so long? What were you guys even doing in there?”

“What were you even doing out here?” Kurt counters, looking him up and down with a critical eye.

Blaine sighs and walks a little faster. He just needs this day to be over already.


	3. Three

“Okay,” he says, as soon as Kurt sits down across from him, non-fat mocha in his hand and the same judgmental frown on his face that he had this morning. “I think we can both agree that this is extremely weird.”

“Definitely.” Kurt takes a sip of his coffee. “So, any ideas?”

Blaine shrugs. “Nothing we can do about it now. How about we live our lives for the next half year and figure out the rest once we have to? It's not like we'll be short on time to do that then.”

Kurt doesn't say anything for a second, just looks at him with a weird expression. “We can appeal, if you want. We'd both get someone else.”

“What's the point?” Blaine lifts his shoulders, wrapping his hands around his coffee mug. “Doesn't matter who it is, does it?”

Kurt lifts an eyebrow, staring at Blaine as if he's suddenly grown a second head. “It matters to me!”

“Oh.” Blaine looks up, interested. “You got a boyfriend, Hummel? I never knew! Never saw you with anyone.”

Kurt leans back in his chair, smirking. “Have you been watching me, Anderson?”

Blaine laughs. “Uh, yeah?” He shakes his head. “You _are_ kind of hot, you know?”

Kurt crosses his arms, giving him an almost challenging look. “Oh?”

“Not my type, but yeah, objectively speaking, you're hot. That can't be news to you.”

Kurt shrugs. “What's your type, then? No, let me guess. Leather jacket, tattooed everywhere, showers only twice a week?”

Blaine shakes his head at him. “Way to stereotype, Hummel. You think you know me so well, don't you?”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Actually, I think I don't know you at all since you've never spoken a word to me during the two years we went to the same school. Which is kind of why we're here, isn't it? To talk. To get to know each other.”

“Hmm.” Blaine leans forward in his chair, grinning a little. “I bet I know what _your_ type is, though. Let me guess?”

“Be my guest.”

“Handsome, well-dressed, polite. You want romance. You want someone to sing silly love songs to you and orchestrate grand gestures and hold your hands a lot and make some kind of heart-felt declaration of undying love before your first kiss. Am I right?”

Kurt watches him with an expression he cannot decipher, but Blaine feels like the gaze bores all the way into his core and he doesn't like it. “You don't know me as well as you think either, Anderson.”

“We're going to get married, cupcake, you might as well start calling me Blaine.”

“Two things.” Kurt casts a bored look down at his hands before meeting Blaine's eyes again, gaze firm and steady. “One: don't _ever_ call me cupcake again, my name is Kurt. And two: we're going down to the office together tomorrow and get our role assignments. Afterwards, one of us will need the rest of the day to recover, but the day after tomorrow, you will come over to have dinner at my parents' house. You have to meet my family. And I'm assuming yours will want to meet me. Let me know when they want me to come over, and I'll arrange it.”

“Do you plan your outfits for a week in advance or is there a color-coordinated schedule for the rest of the school year?”

“Excuse me?”

Blaine grins. “You do like to plan ahead, don't you?”

“I'm organized.” Kurt grins back. “And there you go, you've already learned something about me.”

“While I remain an unsolvable mystery.” Blaine winks at him.

“Don't flatter yourself.” Kurt smirks at him. “I do have a question for you, though. It's kind of personal.”

“Go ahead, I'm an open book.”

“Eyeliner? Really?”

“Problem with that?”

Kurt tilts his head to the side, staring at him while he thinks about it. “No,” he finally says. “But please let your mom teach you how to apply it correctly, it's all smudged and -”

“I need another coffee,” Blaine decides, sliding out of his chair and walking off toward the counter.

At the very least, Kurt Hummel is a much better match for him verbally than he ever thought possible. Small mercies. It's really all he can ask for, he thinks.

**

“You don't have a car, right?”

Blaine looks up from where he's going through the stuff in his locker – he's quite sure he has a history book in there somewhere, and since he's bored enough to consider going to history today he should maybe make sure it's still there – to find Kurt leaning against the locker next to his. He's dressed nicely as always, hair carefully swept away and up from his forehead, and Blaine has to hold back a laugh. Again. Whoever had the genius idea that the two of them might actually make a good couple has apparently never seen them together. He slams his locker shut, giving up the search for his book, and shoves his hands into the pockets of his dirty, cut up jacket.

“Why?”

“Because I'm not walking all the way to city hall.”

“No, I don't have a car.”

“Then meet me in the parking lot after school and I'll drive us there.”

“Fine.”

“You don't have to sound so enthusiastic about it.”

“What do you want me to say?” Blaine sighs. “Can't wait. It's gonna be so much fun.”

“Sarcasm. Now that's something I can work with!”

“By the way, I'm _not_ having dinner with your family tomorrow night. In case I forgot to mention it.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Blaine.”

“Kurt!” He tries so hard not to grin through his fake annoyance.

Kurt rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He seems to be doing that a lot around Blaine. “We'll talk about this later, I have to -”

“Let me guess. Get to class?”

“So you do know what classes are, then?”

“Haha.”

“Actually, aren't you in my history class too?” Kurt stands up straight, looking as if he's trying to remember if he ever saw Blaine there.

“I think so, why?”

“Great. Walk with me, then.” And with that, he turns and takes a few steps, looking back at Blaine over his shoulder when he doesn't follow. “What are you waiting for?”

“Yeah, I changed my mind. I'm not going to history.”

“Of course you're going,” Kurt informs him, and takes his arm to lead him down the corridor.

“You really need to stop doing that,” Blaine protests. “I'm not your project. I'm not going to class and I'm not meeting your parents. Forget it!”

He sits through the entire history lesson glaring at the back of his future wife's head and cursing whatever stupid system error paired him up with Kurt Hummel. Once they're married, he's going to make him cook five-course meals every single day just to make up for this.

**

“What do you mean, I'm the wife?” Blaine yells, nearly jumping out of his chair.

Kurt has to force himself to sit still, relief flooding through him in a hot rush that's buzzing in his ears. He's going to be the husband. He wants to put on a party hat and celebrate for, like, a week. But that probably wouldn't be very nice right now, with how hard Blaine is taking this. If the roles were reversed, he'd have some difficulty coming to terms with it too, and he had kind of been expecting to be the wife anyway. So, no, he's not going to dance in his chair and burst into sing right now. But he can't help feeling relieved and really, _really_ happy either. He'll get to go to college, after all. All those dreams were totally not wasted.

“Blaine, calm down,” he tries. They can fight this out in private once they're out of here.

Blaine's head whips around to him. “Did you just tell me to calm down? Seriously, Kurt? Don't you see how ridiculous this is?”

Kurt looks at him coolly. “What's so ridiculous about this?”

Blaine gestures at Kurt's clothes. “Just look at you!” He turns toward the administrator behind the desk, glaring at him. “Just look at him! He _looks_ like the wife! You got it wrong.”

The man behind the desk takes off his glasses, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing a thumb and index finger to his eyelids. “Mr Anderson.”

“I mean, seriously, do you honestly think I'm the type of person to stay home and cook and, what, should I join a Bridge club too? What exactly is it about me that screams _wife_?”

“Mr Anderson!” The man looks up, finally, looking a little exhausted. Kurt can only guess that this isn't the first fight that has exploded in his office over the past two days. “Roles are assigned based on a variety of factors. In your case, it was clearly based on the likelihood of professional success. Mr Hummel here has excellent grades -”

“So have I, did you even look at my transcripts?”

“- and a perfect attendance record. He takes part in extracurricular activities, has a wide circle of friends which promises excellent networking skills, _and_ works part time in his father's business. You – have a record of skipping school and spray-painting your classmates vehicles with obscene messages. Do you see at all where I'm going with this?”

Blaine sits very still, eyes wide, apparently in shock. Kurt almost feels bad for him, even if the comment about his clothes still stings a bit. He's not quite ready to forgive that.

“I'm smart,” Blaine tries, sounding defeated all of a sudden. “I'm – I can work!”

“Now you don't have to, isn't that better?” The man smiles at him, which Kurt can tell immediately is a big mistake. “Mr Hummel will take care of that, and you'll have all the time in the world to create a nice home for -”

“Fuck this.” Blaine shoves back his chair forcefully, metal chair legs scratching loudly over the hardwood floorboards. “Fuck all of this. I'm out of here!”

And with that he turns and slams the door behind himself.

“Sorry,” Kurt says, shrugging, offering the man behind the desk an apologetic look. “I bet you get that all the time.”

“Yeah.” He smiles tiredly, nodding. “Not the first time, don't worry.”

Kurt tries to smile back, fails, then hurries outside, following Blaine.

He finds him in the parking lot, laying on his back on the hood of Kurt's car and staring up at the sky.

“There you are.”

“It's too far to walk home from here,” Blaine explains, voice calm and controlled after his earlier outburst. “You have to drop me off.”

“Sure.” Kurt isn't entirely sure what to say. He had kind of expected Blaine to yell at him, to keep fighting about this. He's surprised by this turn of events. “You'll have to get off the car for that, though.”

Instead of climbing off, Blaine just sits up, looking Kurt straight in the eye. “Do you still want to appeal?”

“Um, sorry, what?”

“What you said, at the Lima Bean,” Blaine reminds him. “We don't have to do this. We don't have to go through with this. We can appeal and get paired with someone else and maybe -”

“Blaine.” Kurt takes a careful step closer. “If that's what you want, we can ask. But you do know that they hardly ever change role classifications once they're assigned, right? You'll just be someone else's wife instead.”

“They _might_ change it.”

“Well, yeah. Or they might not.”

Blaine sighs, rubbing a hand across his tired face. His always unruly hair looks like he's been running his fingers through it a lot, and suddenly he looks a little lost in his ripped jeans and ratty old jacket. “Or they might not.”

“For what it's worth?” Kurt hops up onto the hood of the car, sitting next to Blaine. “I _am_ sorry. I wish there was a way we could both – you know. I really wish that were possible. Don't get me wrong, I'm not unhappy about getting the chance to do what I want with my life. But it sucks that you can't. And I do wish I could do something about that.”

Blaine gives him a curious look. “Um. Okay. Don't take this the wrong way, but … why?”

Kurt blinks at him. “I don't understand.”

“Why do you even care?”

Kurt shrugs. He has no idea, actually. Except for the fact that it's never sat quite right with him that half of the people at his school, at all schools around the world, were only there to make well-educated wives some day. He's never really seen the point of it, it's never seemed very fair. Especially since he'd been dreading the day when he'd find out about his own role since the time he realized he was different. “Does it matter?” he asks. “I just do, okay? You should get a chance to do what you want, too!”

“Well, now I won't,” Blaine says, and lies back to stare up at the sky again.

Kurt lies down next to him, and he doesn't really know what to say. “Oh, by the way, what you said about me in there? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? I _look_ like the wife? Really, Blaine?”

Blaine shrugs. “I'm kind of a jerk. You know that.”

Kurt looks over at him quickly, then turns his gaze back to the clouds and lets out a long breath. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

Blaine makes no move to get up and neither does he. They have another half hour or so before they absolutely need to go home, and nothing about this position is as uncomfortable as he expected it to be.

The day is just full of surprises.


	4. Four

Burt looks up from his spot on the couch as soon as Kurt enters the living room. “How did it go?”

Kurt drops his bag by the door and shrugs, grinning a little. “I get to be the husband.”

“Really?” Burt gets up immediately, crossing the room in a few big strides to pull Kurt into an enthusiastic hug. “That's great, kid! I'm so happy for you!”

“Thanks, dad.”

“I guess you better start sending out those college applications, then.”

“I'll get right on it. Just need to mail them, actually, I finished them weeks ago.”

“What if you hadn't -”

“I know, dad.” Kurt smiles, shaking his head a little. “I was just – hoping, I guess.”

“How did Blaine take it?”

Kurt sighs, frowning. “He … Not well. But that was to be expected.”

“You wouldn't have been happy either if it had been the other way around.”

Kurt nods, not saying what he's thinking, but his dad can see right through him anyway, just as always. “What is it, kid? You don't exactly look happy now either.”

“So, I do get to go to college and follow my dreams,” Kurt says. “But that doesn't change the fact that I really don't want to do this, you know? I just feel like – I don't want to do this.”

“Get married?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” Burt scratches his head, then walks back over to the couch. Kurt follows him to drop into the seat next to his dad, and he just wishes he were a few years younger, that he'd have more time, just a little more time to get used to this idea of being tied to someone he barely knows, and isn't quite sure he actually likes, for the rest of his days.

“You know,” Burt says after a while. “It's been a few weeks since we really talked about this last. I thought you were getting comfortable with the idea. And it's not like this is a big surprise, you've known all along it was going to be this year.”

“Yeah, but -” Kurt shrugs again, trying to explain. “There's a difference between knowing it's going to happen eventually and having it happen to you right at this moment. I know I'm supposed to be ready, but I don't _feel_ ready.”

“That's okay,” Burt assures him. “I didn't feel ready either when I was your age. But then I met your mom, and everything just … changed. Whoever picked her for me sure knew what they were doing.” He smiles. “I was very lucky.”

“I'm not sure I am,” Kurt admits, lowering his eyes. “Blaine is – he's – it's difficult.”

“Yeah, you told me.” Burt sighs. “I don't know what to say about that, Kurt. It's your choice. You can stick it out, try to get to know him a bit better, or you could always refuse him. You're allowed one appeal.”

“I know.” Kurt leans his head on his dad's shoulder and closes his eyes. “We talked about it. Twice, actually. Mentioned it, at least. And, I don't know, but if he's the best match they could come up with, what are the others going to be like? I'm just not sure that that's going to be any better.”

“You don't have to be sure right now,” Burt tells him. “You have six months to figure it out. You know I'm here if you need to talk, right?”

“Yes, dad.”

“Blaine still coming over for dinner tomorrow night?”

Kurt nods against his father's shoulder. “Yes, he is. He's not thrilled about the idea, but I'll make sure he shows up anyway. Will Carole and Finn be back tomorrow?”

“No, Carole's sister needs her a few more days,” Burt says. “She'll meet him next time.”

“Okay,” Kurt agrees. Maybe it's better this way. Introducing his family to Blaine in small doses.

**

Blaine does show up, but he's half an hour late and actually seems to have exchanged his ragged old jacket for an even more battered one and his hair looks like he stuck his finger in a light socket.

Kurt opens the door for him and looks him over, sighing. “Well, don't you look nice.”

Blaine grins challengingly. “Didn't want to leave the wrong first impression. Like what you see?”

“You're clearly every gay man's dream. Love them all shabby and looking like they dressed themselves straight from the dumpster. Did you punch some extra holes in your shoes? Because that really gets me going.”

“I'll keep that in mind for next time.”

“Well, come on in, I guess.” Kurt holds the door open for him, taking a step back so that Blaine can walk past him. “And – I was going to say 'try to be nice', but I guess there's no point.”

Blaine bumps his shoulder against Kurt's in passing. “You're finally getting to know me, awesome.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and places both hands on Blaine's shoulders, marching him into the living room where Burt is waiting.

“Dad, this is Blaine. Blaine, my dad.”

“Hi,” Burt greets, walking towards Blaine and holding out a hand. “Welcome. So, you're Blaine.”

Blaine frowns at Burt's outstretched hand for a second before briefly shaking it and then very pointedly shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah.”

The silence that follows is uncomfortable: Burt scratching his head, clearly not knowing what to do about this turn of events, Blaine staring at the far wall with a disinterested expression on his face, and Kurt looking from one to the other, biting his lip and trying to think of something, _anything_ , to say.

“Well,” he gives up eventually, “Let's just eat, then.”

“Fine,” Blaine agrees, and follows Kurt and his dad to the dining room.

Dinner isn't any less awkward, though – Blaine just sits at his end of the table, eating quickly and without looking up while Kurt exchanges helpless looks with his father.

“So, Blaine, are you originally from Ohio?” Burt tries eventually after Kurt kicks him under the table.

Blaine doesn't even lift his head from where it's bowed over his plate. “Yup.”

Burt looks to Kurt for help, shrugging, a slight look of panic on his face. Kurt just nods in Blaine's direction, eyes wide, signaling for his father to keep trying.

“Because, um.” Burt clears his throat, adjusts his cap, rubs his neck. “Kurt tells me that you've only been going to school together for the past two years. I figured you might be from out of state.”

Blaine pauses in his eating, sighs, and looks up. “Went to school in Westerville, had to leave, came to McKinley. There's no story there, really.”

“Why did you have to leave Westerville?” Kurt asks. “You never said.”

“I got punched in the face,” Blaine answers, then resumes eating.

“What happened?” Kurt asks. “I mean, you don't have to tell us if you don't want to -”

“Cool, thanks,” Blaine says, not even lifting his head this time.

“Do you like sports?” Burt asks after another few minutes of awkward silence. “Uh … football?”

Blaine shrugs. “Sometimes.”

“But you don't play?”

“Obviously not.”

“I could never get Kurt into football,” Burt rambles on. “Not even when he was on the school team. He ever tell you that he used to be kicker for McKinley?”

“Huh.” Blaine lowers his fork, looking Kurt up and down with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Interesting.”

“I didn't really like it, though,” Kurt tells him.

“Yeah, I figured,” Blaine replies and turns his attention back to his food.

Kurt gives up, focusing on his own meal instead. Blaine clearly isn't interested in talking and that's fine. They don't really have anything to say to each other anyway.

Dinner is over in less than fifteen minutes and even if the original plan had been to move to the living room and talk over coffee for a bit, Kurt knows even before they have finished eating that that's not going to happen.

He sees Blaine to the door after Burt has said goodbye to him (frowning and clearly not knowing what to do with the situation), and follows him out onto the porch.

“You're kind of an asshole,” he informs him.

Blaine lifts his shoulders, grinning. “You knew that already.”

“You didn't have to act like that. What _was_ that, Blaine? Why do you have to be so...”

“So what?”

“Just … My dad was really trying, you know? And so was I. Do you think this is any easier for me than it is for you?”

“Uh, kind of, yeah,” Blaine says, frowning at Kurt. “You're not the one who's going to be stuck at home with the laundry and the kids and book club every other week for the rest of forever.”

“I'm still the one who has to marry _you_!” Kurt almost regrets the words once they're out of his mouth when he sees the hurt flashing across Blaine's face for a millisecond, but seriously. Who behaves like that? “I'm sorry,” he mumbles. “That was uncalled for. I apologize.”

“No, don't.” Blaine sighs. “Look, I'm not good at the meeting the parents thing, okay? And what does it really matter if he likes me? _You_ don't even like me. What's done is done. We'll just have to – I don't know. Get through this.”

“Get through this?” Kurt feels his eyes widen in disbelief. “Blaine, this is the rest of our lives we're talking about! My father is really important to me. You'll be seeing a lot of each other. I just wanted – I just wanted the two of you to at least try and get along.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Whatever. We can try again some other day.”

“No, not going to happen.”

“So, when do I get to meet your family?”

Blaine laughs. “Um, how about at the wedding?”

“You mean you don't have any intention of introducing us.”

“You're a fast learner, I'll give you that.”

“Why not?”

“We're going to live together and that's it, okay? As far as I'm concerned, I'm getting a life-long roommate. We don't have to like each other, Kurt. We don't have to pretend we're a family. That's _their_ rules. We can make our own. Hey, don't look so shocked, I'm basically giving you permission to fuck whoever you want even after we're married, you should be thanking me!”

“We don't have to like each other?” Kurt repeats, quietly.

Blaine shakes his head. “It's marriage. It's just a formality.”

“I don't want that,” Kurt admits, voice down almost to a whisper.

“Then what do you want, Kurt? Tell me, because I'd really like to understand. I'm all for making the best of a shitty situation.”

“I don't know what I want,” Kurt admits, “But.” He gestures between the two of them. “It's not this. None of this.”

Blaine rubs a hand across his face, looking tired all of a sudden. “It's getting late,” he says, which is a lie, it's barely after seven. “I should go. See you around Kurt.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Blaine pauses. “It's a figure of speech. And I _am_ kind of expecting to be seeing you around. We go to the same school. We're bound to run into each other in the hallways eventually.”

Kurt just stares at him unblinking for a second, until Blaine finally turns to go.

“Blaine,” he calls after him.

Blaine turns back around at the foot of the porch steps and looks up at him. “What?”

“Do you still want to appeal?”

“What?”

Kurt swallows. “This isn't working,” he says. “You know it isn't.”

“It kind of is, for me.”

“Not for me.”

Blaine lowers his eyes, and for a moment, he looks resigned, almost sad. “Well, then,” he says, “I guess in that case, we're going to appeal.”

“Meet me at city hall tomorrow, around noon?”

Blaine nods and leaves without another word.

Kurt looks after him, watches him walk away, and feels far worse than he thought he would. This is for the best. They are completely incompatible. It's the right thing to do. He's sure of that. He still feels like a jerk, and doesn't understand why.


	5. Five

Blaine lies on his bed in his clothes, staring at the ceiling while it's slowly getting dark outside. He doesn't bother turning on the lights – he has a book open on his chest, but he doesn't feel like reading tonight. Puck had asked him to hang out and play video games, but he'd declined. He mostly wants to be alone right now.

He doesn't even know why he's upset about Kurt wanting to break it off – it's not like they were dating or even liked each other, or like Blaine had made any kind of effort to make this work. It's just that with Kurt, it would have been easy. Kurt is nice. He might have been nice enough to let Blaine live his life the way he wants to, if Blaine hadn't gone and screwed it all up. Sure, he'd never have been able to get a job and a real _life_ and he would still have been the one stuck at home all the fucking time. But maybe he could have gone to college part-time. Maybe he could have had his own friends and some semblance of freedom. Who knows who they're going to stick him with now.

You get one chance to appeal, only one. After that, you pretty much have to stick it out. There's always divorce, but that's messy and hardly ever works out unless there's domestic violence involved. So this is it for him – probably the best chance he'd had and now it's gone.

He turns over onto his side and yawns – he had actually sat through most of his classes today and it had been _boring_. He's tired now. And still feeling a little bit sad, like once again everything is just slipping away from him. Story of his life.

At least he can console himself with the fact that he's really doing something good here. Kurt isn't a bad guy, and he'll be much happier with someone else. Blaine has given up on his dreams long ago. He's kind of glad that Kurt doesn't have to.

There's a knock on his door, and he rolls back over onto his back, sighing. “Come in.”

His dad sticks his head into the room. “There's a game on. Do you want to come downstairs and watch?” Which is basically his father's code for _I'm worried about you, are you sure you're okay_?

Blaine sits up, contemplating the idea for a moment. “Sure,” he says eventually. It's probably better than going to sleep a little after eight.

**

The hallways at city hall are empty for a Saturday. Blaine is glad, because it means they won't have to wait long. He just wants this over with, and then he and Kurt can go their separate ways.

“Are you ready?” Kurt asks, and Blaine nods. They enter the office together.

It's not the same guy they saw the other day, and Blaine is kind of glad, because he isn't exactly proud of the way he stormed out that time. Still, he just sits down and lets Kurt do the explaining, nods here and there and otherwise keeps quiet. They just have to do this and it will all be over and Blaine will hopefully be able to go back to enjoying the last six months of freedom he's ever going to have.

“Okay, shall we go over the possibilities?” The guy finally asks, and Kurt exchanges a look with Blaine.

“Okay,” Blaine agrees, and Kurt nods, expression unreadable and turns back to the clerk.

“How do we do this?”

The man shrugs. “Give me a second. I'll give you each a list of possible matches, and you can take your time going over it. Come back in when you've made up your mind.”

They wait in silence for a good ten minutes before they're each handed a stack of papers, a file of possible futures printed up in almost no time at all.

“You just have these available?” Blaine asks, stunned.

The guy nods. “Second matches are very basic, it's a simple search. Take your time going through these. And come see me again when you're done. Any time within the next six months is okay.”

Kurt rifles through his papers quickly, a look of confusion on his face. “There are women in here,” he comments.

“They're compatible with you,” the clerk informs him.

“Um, no, they aren't. Seeing as how I'm gay?”

“Oh, that's not an issue.” The man actually smiles at him. “We do take sexual compatibility into consideration, but it's clearly not everything. Just knock her up once or twice and you're good.”

Blaine can see Kurt pretty much freezing up, the anger radiating off of him almost a tangible thing in the air between them. “Very well. I think we're done here.” He leaves without another word, Blaine stumbling after him as quickly as he can.

“Kurt,” he calls, out in the parking lot. “Hold up, hey, wait a second.”

Kurt turns around, looking pissed now. “What is it?”

“Are you okay?”

Kurt snorts. “Fine. I'm fine. What do you care?”

“This was your idea,” Blaine reminds him. “Also, I need you to drop me off at home, I have no intention of walking back.”

“I thought this was it? We get our matches and then we go our separate ways?”

Blaine shoves his hands into his pockets, shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “Sure. Yeah. I still need a ride home, though.”

Kurt throws his hands up in the air, huffing out a breath. “Okay. Good. Whatever. Come on then.”

Once in the car, he makes no move to start the engine, though, instead sorts through the papers on his lap.

“This guy's forty,” he says, shaking his head. “Widower. And he lives in Wyoming.”

Blaine slumps back in his seat, resigning himself to being here a while. “Sounds good. You should pick him.”

“Blaine!”

“Kurt!” he says mockingly.

“Aren't you going to look at yours, you must have … what the – half of these are women! What are they even – oh, he's my age … no, wait, there's a picture of him. Never mind, not happening.”

Blaine rifles through his own papers, just out of curiosity. He'll probably just pick one randomly, it doesn't really matter to him all that much. Until he actually has a look at the short biographies.

“These guys are all ex-convicts or over fifty or have tattoos all over their faces,” he says, face falling. “What the fuck? That's all I'm worth? They couldn't find me someone more...”

“More what?” Kurt asks.

_More like you_ , Blaine thinks, but doesn't say it. He's not even sure where that thought is coming from, because Kurt is bossy and insufferable and he doesn't even _like him_. Instead he drops the file, reaches for his seat belt. “Whatever, it doesn't matter. Let's just go. I'll find someone in here and – it's fine. Let's just go.”

“Blaine -”

“I said let's go.”

“You don't look happy.”

“Neither do you.”

“This is just all a bit … much. Right now.”

“I know.” Blaine sighs. “Honestly, can we just go?” He doesn't want to be here anymore. With Kurt. He just wants to go home and read a book or call Puck and make him drive them to Columbus and sneak them into a bar and most of all he wants to forget what his life will look like six months from now.

“Okay,” Kurt agrees, and finally starts the car.

**

Blaine holds out until Monday before he finally breaks. He's spent the first half of the weekend in his room trying to read, and the second half getting drunk with Puck behind the Lima Bean, and he thinks they may have at some point got out the spray paint and left some creative messages on the dumpsters in the back alley, but he isn't sure anymore.

His parents had grounded him into the next millennium and threatened to make him go back to therapy when he stumbled home Sunday night, but he had just wandered up to his room and fallen asleep.

He knows they are losing their patience with him, but his life pretty much sucks right now and has for a while and they'll just have to deal with it. It's not like he's trying to screw up all the time. Bad stuff just seems to always be happening to him.

The thing is, he's thought a lot, these past two days. About Kurt. And about his own life. And about how his own life would look if he'd let himself be shipped off to the middle of nowhere to marry a thirty-five year old fry cook in Arizona or a forty-two year old semi-bald guy in Oklahoma who works at the post office and “enjoys caring for his stamp collection in his spare time.” And even though he knows that he completely messed everything up and that he'll _keep_ messing up because _he's Blaine, hello, that's what he does_ , he can't just accept this without at least trying to turn it around. Suddenly, the prospect of doing Kurt's laundry for the rest of his life seems a lot more appealing than it had just two days ago. Which is saying a lot about the alternatives he's been presented with, really.

Kurt's car is already in the parking lot when Blaine arrives on foot just ten minutes before the bell rings, and he hurries inside the school, weaving his way through the crowd of students until he finds Kurt's locker and Kurt, thankfully, standing in front of it, adjusting his hair in the tiny mirror he has stuck to the inside of the door.

“Kurt,” he calls out, and Kurt turns to him.

“You look like hell,” is the first thing Kurt says to him, and Blaine waves it off.

“Rough weekend. So, they all suck.”

“Who does?”

“Those guys on my list. They all suck. I've changed my mind.” He knows this is a long shot and Kurt will be well within his rights to turn on his heels and walk away, Blaine is fully expecting him to do just that. But he has to try anyway. They're not friends and they might never be, but at least he knows what he's getting himself into like this. “I don't want to appeal anymore,” he says. “I don't like any of them.”

“Oh, thank god!” Kurt seems to deflate visibly, leaning back against his locker with a dull thud.

Whatever Blaine had been expecting, this hadn't been on the list of possible outcomes. “What?”

“You should see _my_ list,” Kurt says. “I don't know what these people mean by compatible, but those options they gave me, well, they're not it!”

“So, we're not going to appeal, then?” Blaine wants to smile with relief, but he's holding back – he has to be sure.

“Guess not.”

“Okay. Cool. That's – cool.”

“Yeah.”

Blaine waits, not sure what to do, and Kurt turns back to his locker, putting a few books away and getting out a brightly colored folder.

“Okay, so, what happens now?” Blaine finally asks.

Kurt smiles at him over his shoulder. “Now, Blaine Anderson, we're going to get to know each other. And you can't say no to that, because we're going to get married in six months, and I'm not marrying a complete stranger. I can still change my mind, remember?”

Blaine nods. “I still don't want to play family with you,” he says. “That hasn't changed. This is – convenient. Okay? Nothing more.”

“You do know how to make a guy swoon.” Kurt laughs. “Don't worry. I'm not asking you out on a date. But if we're going to do this, you're going to meet me half way. Meaning you'll tell me about yourself and you'll listen when I do the same and you're going to meet my family again. And this time, you'll be civil.”

Blaine salutes. “Yes, sir!”

“And you're never going to do _that_ again.”

“I'm assuming you'll still want to meet my folks eventually?”

“Yes, Blaine.” Kurt rolls his eyes at him. “Of course. That's definitely still on the agenda too.”

“I guess it can be arranged.”

“Wonderful.”

“Hey, Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Kurt sighs, looking Blaine up and down. “Don't make me regret it.”

“You know I can't promise that.”

“I do.”

“I'll try, though. I can do _that_.”

“That's all I'm asking.”

Kurt smiles at him before closing his locker and turning to walk away. Blaine watches him leave, and while he still doesn't feel excited about the whole concept of being Kurt's wife, he does feel oddly relieved now that they've talked. This morning, he actually does go to class. He figures it's as good a way as any to let Kurt know he's willing to try.


	6. Six

“Where did you even get a lawn mower?” Puck yells from the bleachers. “No, go right, little more, yeah, and now in a half circle -”

“It's my neighbor's,” Blaine yells back, grinning excitedly. God, this is _fun_!

Puck laughs and keeps directing Blaine with mostly very confusing hand gestures, but the outline isn't complicated, and a few minutes later, Blaine is done. He parks the lawn mower by the side of the field and jumps down, jogging over to the bleachers to join Puck in climbing all the way to the top to admire his work from the best vantage point.

“It's a penis,” he says proudly, looking down on the shape clearly mowed into the grass of the McKinley High football field. “It's a giant penis.”

Puck high fives him, grinning. “This wasn't what I expected when you called me up and said you had a brilliant plan, but it _is_ kind of awesome.”

“I know.” Blaine grins back happily. “I was just passing by my neighbor's house and he'd forgotten to lock that thing back in his tool shed, and it was just sitting there all – red and shiny.”

“You should keep it, then you don't have to walk to school every morning,” Puck suggests. “Dude, riding to school on a lawn mower, that's so badass -”

Blaine sighs. “No, I have to take it back, if I get in any more trouble my parents are going to kill me.”

“Sucks.”

“It's so … red, though. I love how red it is.”

“You're weird.”

“Am not.”

Puck jumps down to the next row. “Wanna go get a beer?”

Blaine shakes his head. “Can't. My mom found my fake ID in my backpack and took it away.”

Puck shrugs. “I have a spare, hold on.”

He hands it to Blaine, who laughs loudly. “This is worse than the last one. It says my name is Norbert Butts and I'm 47.”

“So? Let's drive to that gay dive you like so much, they let anyone in.”

Blaine eyes him suspiciously. “Scandals? Why do you always want to go there? You're the one who likes it, not me. And you're not even gay!”

“The dudes there _love_ me,” Puck explains, continuing to climb down the bleachers, and Blaine follows, shaking his head at his friend. He'll never understand him, but he _is_ a lot of fun to hang out with.

**

“I see you've actually decided to go to class.”

Blaine looks up from his locker to see Kurt leaning against the one next to his, smiling cryptically. “Yeah, I just – figured I might as well,” Blaine says.

“No very important hanging out under the bleachers to do today?”

“That got boring.”

“I see.” Kurt smirks, studying his fingernails intently. “I thought you might want to stay there for a while and admire your handiwork.”

Blaine pretends to be confused. “What do you mean?”

“The penis? That was you, wasn't it?”

He grins. “It's awesome, isn't it?”

“How did you do it?”

“With a lawn mower, obviously.” He rolls his eyes at Kurt.

“You stole a lawn mower?”

“How do you know I _stole_ it?”

“Blaine!”

“Fine! But I was totally going to take it back! It's not my fault it won't start anymore, I have no idea what's wrong with it -”

Kurt sighs. “Where is it now?”

“Puck and I hid it behind the gym, we didn't know what to do with it.”

Kurt nods slowly, then shrugs, giving Blaine a resigned look. “Meet me there after glee practice tonight.”

“I don't have glee practice tonight.”

“But I do. In fact, you could come along, the competition season is over for us anyway, it's just for fun now. You could join for the last few weeks of the year.”

Blaine laughs. “What makes you think I can even sing?”

“You play guitar, don't you?”

“And how do you know that?”

Kurt smirks at him. “I have my sources.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Puck told me. Puck, who is in glee club, by the way. Isn't he sort of your best friend? It can't be too uncool for you if your best friend is doing it.”

“Why is this so important to you?” Blaine wants to know.

“It isn't,” Kurt says. “I just … figure it might help you stay out of trouble.”

“Yeah, no. It won't.”

“Give it a try?” Kurt asks. “We said we would try and get to know each other now. This is something that's important to me.”

Blaine thinks about it. “What are you going to do for me in return?”

Kurt lifts his shoulders, adjusting the strap of his book bag. “Think of something and we'll talk about it.”

Blaine tilts his head, taking in Kurt's straight posture, the almost bored expression on his face, the sparkle in his eyes that betrays it. “I don't understand you, you know?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Whatever. Yes. But I'm not going to sing.”

“We'll see about that.”

“You're so weird sometimes.”

“Give me your phone,” Kurt demands, holding out his hand.

Blaine stares at it. “Um. Why?”

“So that I can give you my number?” Kurt looks at him like he's stupid, then takes his own phone from his jacket pocket and hands it to Blaine. “And you'll give me your number too. If we're going to be friends, we should have each other's numbers.”

“Planning to check up on me, Hummel?” Blaine waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“I plan to make sure you don't do anything that could get you arrested,” Kurt says, “But that's not what this is about.”

“Whatever.”

They exchange numbers, and Blaine watches Kurt walk off to his first class of the morning, feeling strangely fascinated and a lot annoyed by this boy. This boy who goes about befriending him with a determination he simply doesn't understand. It's interesting. It's not entirely unwelcome. Mostly, though, it sort of gives him terrible performance anxiety. It would be so easy to screw this up. And then what would happen to the both of them?

**

Glee club is a mess and Blaine sort of loves it. Over all the bickering and yelling they're doing, they hardly even get around to actual singing and dancing.

He sits in the back corner and observes, just giving Mr Schuester a look that says _I don't think so_ better than words ever could when he suggests Blaine join them. Watching is much better. It's actually quite entertaining, he thinks.

And he was right, Kurt really _is_ hot – Blaine stares, open and unashamed, as he dances around the room, doing all kinds of sexy stuff with his hips and his arms and his legs, and so, okay, they're not exactly soulmates and this whole getting married thing still creeps him out. But at least he's very pleasing to look at and Blaine definitely appreciates the prospect of living together with those hips and those nicely formed biceps for the rest of his years. He's at least going to have _that_.

He waits for Kurt after glee the way he'd promised, and Puck joins him in the back corner while the rest of them pack their stuff together while still arguing about – something.

“So, I got, like, six phone numbers last night at Scandals,” Puck tells him. “Want me to give them to you?”

Blaine sighs, shaking his head. “Can't. Kurt is going to have my head if he finds out I'm sneaking around with other guys.” There's also a small part of him that doesn't even feel like calling up some other guy, but he doesn't say that out loud. He's never been very successful in the hooking up with guys department, and even he knows that right now is not the best time to try and get back on that particular project.

“Man, that sucks.” Puck slaps his shoulder in sympathy. “Quinn is kind of the same, I guess. Can't believe they actually paired us up.”

Blaine doesn't say it, but he can't quite believe it either, much less that Puck actually got to be the husband in that particular scenario. Not when head cheerleader Quinn with her 4.0 GPA seems so much more likely to find a good job. But having a baby at sixteen probably kind of lost her points, and landed her Puck as a match, since he is the biological father.

“Gotta go,” he tells Puck. “Kurt is gonna help me get the lawn mower back. I think.” He hopes that was what Kurt had meant this morning, and not that he's going to take Blaine behind the gym and yell at him for being irresponsible.

“See you later,” Puck says, and Blaine shoves his hands into his pockets and walks over to where Kurt is talking to his friend – Mercedes? - bumping their shoulders together.

“Ready?” he asks.

Kurt gives him a startled look as if he's only now remembering that Blaine is here too, then nods quickly. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Awesome.”

He waits while Kurt says goodbye to Mercedes, entertains himself with rifling through some of the sheet music that's neatly piled on top of the shiny black piano and plucking out every third page to slip it into the adjoining pile. It leaves him with a strange sort of satisfaction, messing up the neat order of those piles.

Kurt just raises an eyebrow at him once Mercedes has left the room, then gestures for Blaine to follow him.

“We'll have to go by my car to get the tools,” he informs Blaine, and Blaine doesn't feel like arguing.

**

“I don't understand what made you steal a lawn mower,” Kurt confesses, standing next to Blaine with a stern expression on his face. “I mean. A lawn mower? Did you see it and just go like 'Hey, I'm going to mow some lawns tonight and everyone will quake before me in terror at my evil genius?”

“Haha.”

“No, really, I don't understand, please explain this to me.”

Blaine shrugs. “It's red,” he offers.

“Yes, I can see that.”

“I just really … wanted to. Plus, that penis on the football field? That's a fucking work of art, even you have to admit that.”

“Yeah, well.” Kurt sighs. “Let me have a look at this.”

Blaine sits down on the dirty ground as Kurt sets to work, just watching and – appreciating. Because Kurt is bending over a lot and he's wearing really tight jeans, and it's all kinds of unfair, but definitely a nice view.

“How do you even know what to do?” Blaine asks.

Kurt huffs at him. “I've been helping my dad in the garage since I was five, please, Blaine. I think I can fix a lawn mower.”

“You've been – I didn't know you could fix cars,” Blaine says.

“You sound surprised.”

“No, I mean -” He is surprised. Kind of. He hasn't been _watching_ Kurt these past two years, but he's been _noticing_ him, with his impeccable clothes and his glee club and his _hair_ , Kurt is kind of hard not to notice, okay? Blaine is only a guy, after all, a guy with eyes and, like, the natural ability to appreciate hot guys when he sees them. But this a bit of information he hadn't really expected. “That's hot.”

“I'm glad you approve,” Kurt comments, coolly, and bends over again, doing something with a wrench that Blaine doesn't understand.

He leans back onto his hands and settles for just enjoying the view instead of talking. They're not good at talking, apparently, Kurt always tends to take everything Blaine says the wrong way. But Blaine is very good at watching, so he just does that for the next few minutes.

“Okay,” Kurt announces eventually, turning the key, and the engine rumbles to life. “All done.”

“Cool.”

“What do we say, Blaine?” Kurt gives him a stern look, the corners of his mouth twitching just a bit as if he's hiding a smile.

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Thank you, Kurt.”

“You're welcome.”

“Now I just have to come back here tonight and get it back to my neighbor's front lawn unseen, and all will be well.”

Kurt bites his lip. “I wish you would stop doing things like this, you know?”

“Returning stolen property?”

Kurt shakes his head, the worried look not leaving his face. “Just – stupid things. Like mowing a giant penis into a football field with a stolen lawn mower. I just wish you wouldn't do that.”

Blaine grins. “Where would be the fun in that?”

“Can't you just – I don't know, start a band, get into gardening, take up knitting? Something more productive and less destructive?”

Blaine frowns up at him, annoyed. “In other words, be your perfect little wife.”

“No, no.” Kurt's shoulders slump, resigned. “Blaine, that's not what I meant. I just – worry about you.”

“Well, don't.” Blaine gets up off the ground, brushing the dirt from his pants. “That's kind of really condescending coming from a guy who's never said two words to me before last week. I've managed without you for the past few years. I think I'll be fine.”

“I wasn't implying that you weren't – forget it. Whatever.” Kurt turns around, starts packing together his tools. “Forget I ever said anything.”

Blaine watches him pack his things in silence, feeling like a jerk. He hates feeling like a jerk, even if he sort of is one. “Kurt?”

“What?”

“I just – do you still want to meet my parents?”

Kurt's head whips around to him, the look on his face clearly surprised. “What?”

“You could – come over to dinner. This weekend. I don't know. Saturday?” It's difficult even getting the words out, like he's agreeing to something he's absolutely not ready for. But Kurt just went out of his way to help him and no one has done that for Blaine in a very long time, and he doesn't know how else to say thank you. He just wants to do _something_.

“I'd love to,” Kurt says, and smiles.

For the first time in days, Blaine feels like he finally did something right.


	7. Seven

“Hold it right there, Bender, and hands where I can see them!”

Blaine sighs, turning around to the sound of Sue Sylvester's harsh voice. “You've actually seen _The Breakfast Club_? I'm impressed! But you have to admit that my hair is so much better than Judd Nelson's.”

“I knew it was you who defaced the football field. Where's Puck? I'm assuming he helped? And now what, he just lets you tidy up the crime scene all by yourself?”

Blaine snorts. “Come on, you can't tell me you didn't laugh when you saw it. Personally, I think it's an improvement. It looks so much better this way.”

“God, you're gay.” Sue shakes her head. “Also, I don't laugh. Haven't laughed in years.”

“So, what now? I already have detention until I'm in my thirties. What's it gonna be, you're going to expel me?”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Sue shakes her head at him. “You hardly ever show up for detention anyway. Kindly dispose of that lawn mower and report to my office during lunch tomorrow. And every lunch period after that for the next four weeks. You're going to polish my trophies and listen to me while I talk to you about how you're messing up your life and how much better you could have it if you weren't such a giant … excuse me, such a _tiny little_ moronic jackass.”

The thing is, Blaine is pretty sure that she actually means well, that she's trying to help him. He just wishes she wouldn't. “Is that all?” he asks.

Sue nods, and he drives off on his stolen lawn mower without looking back.

**

“And where have you been?” Blaine's mom greets him by the front door, hands on her hips. “What part of 'you're grounded until you're fifty-seven' didn't you understand?”

“Sorry.” He walks past her, dropping his backpack by the stairs and toeing off his shoes where he stands.

“On the shoe rack,” his mom reminds him, and he gives them a little kick so they slide under it.

“Had something to take care of.”

“And you couldn't have told me you were going out? I never know what you're doing anymore, Blaine. You're eighteen, I thought puberty was going to be over by now.”

Blaine shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets, staring down at the floor. He's not petulant, he's not a fucking rebel. He just – does things. Without thinking about them too much. Impulse control is not his strung suit. “I invited Kurt over for dinner on Saturday,” he says, hoping that changing the subject will calm her. “That okay?”

“Oh, honey, of course!” She actually smiles at him, looking all excited. “Does he like lasagna? Did you invite his family too or just him?”

“Just – him, for now.” Blaine smiles back at her. It feels good, making her smile. “And just make whatever for dinner, I'm sure he'll like it.”

“I'm glad you two are getting along a little better now.”

“Me too.” He isn't sure what exactly 'getting along better' means in this context, but at least he and Kurt are on speaking terms now. That has to be an improvement, right?

He's halfway up the stairs when his mom calls after him. “And don't think you're not in trouble, Blaine! The cars need to be cleaned. Dinner is in fifteen minutes, you can get right on that afterwards.”

He groans. So much for changing the subject. With all the chores he has piled up by now, he won't have an evening to himself again for, like, a decade.

**

Saturday rolls around faster than he expected, but he's had a busy week with actually going to most of his classes and hanging out with Puck whenever he could sneak out of the house, and running into Kurt all the time. Because lately, Kurt seems to be everywhere. He'd even dragged Blaine off to another glee rehearsal, during which Blaine had, once again, just stayed in the back corner and enjoyed the spectacle. He has to admit, they're good. Like, really good. Especially Kurt and Mercedes, and even Mercedes' boyfriend Sam who has a weird mouth and keeps looking at Blaine curiously whenever they cross paths.

His dad is home and his mom has been in the kitchen for over an hour, cooking something that smells delicious. Blaine tries reading a book, then picks a few random chords on his guitar, and eventually just joins his dad in the living room where he's reading the paper.

“Nervous?” his dad asks, glancing at him over his reading glasses.

“No. Why, are you?” Blaine asks, dropping onto the couch.

His dad laughs. “Actually, a bit, yes. I'm meeting my son's boyfriend for the first time. That's exciting!”

“He's not my boyfriend,” Blaine mumbles, and his father raises his eyebrows, opens his mouth to say something, but is thankfully interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.

“I'll get it,” Blaine exclaims, scrambling to his feet. It's probably Kurt anyway. It's exactly seven, and Kurt seems like the kind of guy who'd be perfectly on time.

It is Kurt. And he's dressed beautifully as always, hair carefully styled as always, and the same slightly disdainful look on his face that he always gets when he takes in Blaine's appearance.

“Hi,” Blaine greets, and Kurt looks up from where his gaze is lingering on the front of Blaine's well-worn hoodie to meet his eyes.

“Hi.”

“Well, come in.” Blaine holds the door open for him, and Kurt walks past him, holding up a small box.

“I brought cookies,” he says, “For dessert. I hope that's okay.”

Blaine finds that he immediately likes Kurt just that much more. Because cookies are good. He likes cookies.

“That's wonderful,” Blaine's mom says, sticking her head out of the kitchen. “Hi. You must be Kurt.”

“Yes. Hello.” Kurt smiles, walking past Blaine and shaking hands with Blaine's mother. “It's so nice to meet you!”

“You too! I hope you like lasagna, it's Blaine's favorite!”

“I love it,” Kurt assures her. “Thank you very much for inviting me.”

She beams, looking over at Blaine. “Oh, he's polite. And very handsome, I like him, Blainey! Well done!”

Blaine snorts. As if he had anything to do with it. But he is kind of glad that his mom likes Kurt, he has enough to deal with already.

She goes back to her cooking after that and Blaine steers Kurt toward the living room, where his father is standing next to the couch, hands folded in front of him and a bright smile on his face. Blaine wants to roll his eyes. His parents are the least subtle people on the planet. He's just glad that Cooper already moved out years ago, one less person to embarrass him.

He introduces the two of them and Kurt takes the opportunity to say something apparently very flattering about Blaine's dad's car in the driveway, and that's where Blaine loses track of the conversation. He's never really been into cars. But that's another hurdle successfully taken. He drops down onto the couch and flips through the TV channels, drowning out the sound of Kurt and his dad talking.

**

Kurt is overwhelmed. That's the only way to put it, he thinks. Because whatever he expected Blaine's parents to be like, this is definitely not it – with the way Blaine is constantly setting off fire alarms and spray painting school property and cutting class and wearing smudged eyeliner and cut-up jeans, he kind of pictured him living in a run-down apartment block with an alcoholic mother and an abusive father or something. He definitely hadn't imagined to find him living in a nice, big, cared for house with family pictures on the mantle of the fireplace and parents who seem so nice and normal it's almost unreal. This isn't the place he'd thought Blaine walked off to every afternoon after school. This is a _home_. And a good one at that, as far as Kurt can tell.

The conversation flows easily even when they sit down to dinner, Blaine across from him and a parent on each end of the table, and Kurt actually finds he's really enjoying himself.

“Blaine tells us you've convinced him to join glee club,” his mom says, smiling brightly. “I think that's wonderful, Blaine used to sing all the time.”

“Actually, I -” He's about to say that he hasn't actually heard Blaine sing yet and that Blaine hasn't exactly _joined_ glee club, but catches his slightly pleading glance across the table and changes direction. “...am glad he enjoys it so much. Glee club may not be the most popular extracurricular activity, but I've made great friends there. And it gives us something to do together.”

Blaine nods almost gratefully and Kurt twitches a smile at him.

“I think music is a wonderful hobby to have,” Blaine's dad says. “Blaine taught himself to play the guitar years ago, I insisted on getting him a teacher, but I think he did very well by himself.”

“It's fun,” Blaine says. “And really not that hard. And the piano lessons were already taking up enough of my time, thank you.”

“Oh, you play piano?” That spikes Kurt's interest immediately. “I do, too! I used to take lessons, but not for a while now – I haven't even played in weeks. But I do own a piano, we can totally take that with us when we – um. Move.” He doesn't want to say _move in together_. The concept still seems a little daunting.

Blaine, however, does seem to perk up at that. “Awesome.”

“I mean, my dad doesn't play, and my little brother seems more interested in his drum kit anyway, so...”

“Oh, you have a brother?” Blaine's mom asks. “Blaine has an older brother, Cooper, but he moved to Los Angeles with his wife several years ago. He still comes home for Christmas every year, though.”

“I have a younger brother, yes.” Kurt nods. “He's only ten, though. My dad got remarried after my mom died, and Carole – his new wife – already had a son from her first marriage.”

“I'm sorry about your mom,” Blaine speaks up. “I didn't even know about that.”

Kurt looks up at him, surprised. “Um, thank you,” he says. “It was a long time ago.”

Blaine gives him a smile, something warm and comforting shining out of his gaze, and Kurt feels – so confused. He's not entirely sure he's ever seen this Blaine before. He's seen Blaine who mows giant penises into football fields and hangs out with people like Puck and spends more time in detention than in class. He's seen Blaine who, inexplicably, has awesome parents. And now he sees a Blaine who just now breaks eye contact with him to focus back on his food after giving him a gentle, comforting smile, but something warm has already settled into Kurt's stomach and stays there all the way through dinner.

“So, are you planning to go to college, then?” Blaine's dad asks, and Kurt decides to work out the puzzle that is Blaine later and focus back on the topic at hand.

“Yes.” He nods. “I've been sending out applications. I'm applying to a number of places, mostly for musical theater. It's always been my dream.”

“Does that mean we can count on free Broadway tickets once you're a star?” Blaine's mom asks, winking at him.

Kurt laughs. “I wasn't even accepted into college yet!”

“Where would you like to go most?” Blaine's dad wants to know. “Which city? I mean, I'm mostly just curious, but I have to admit that I'd also like to be able to see Blaine sometimes. I haven't really gotten used to the idea of him living all the way across the country.” He gives his son a warm smile and Blaine rolls his eyes at him, but seems – pleased.

“I, um.” Kurt stares at his plate. “I've applied to a number of different places, in different cities, and I haven't heard back from any of them, but -” He looks up, staring at Blaine until he meets his eyes. “If there's a choice between different places, I was going to talk it over with Blaine and see where he'd like to live too. This isn't just about me, after all.”

Blaine looks nothing less but shocked, eyes wide and jaw hanging open for a second. Kurt just keeps holding his gaze until Blaine snaps his jaw shut and shrugs noncommittally. “Cool.”

“I mean it,” Kurt says. “I want this to be your choice as much as mine. I'm not just going to drag you off to some random city without making sure you're okay with it.”

Blaine shrugs again and grins a bit, and Kurt feels a hand squeezing his shoulder. He turns his head to find Mr Anderson looking at him intently, tears shining behind the reading glasses he forgot to take off.

Kurt gives him a small grin, then resumes eating.

**

They spend another hour talking in the living room, eating the cookies Kurt brought and drinking coffee. It's nice, it's pleasant, and Kurt is surprised when he eventually looks at the time and realizes that he should be on his way home already.

Blaine sees him to the door, standing out on the porch with him for a minute, hands in his pockets, looking at Kurt challengingly as if he's expecting this to be the part where Kurt judges him. And Kurt understands, in this moment, that this is about trust as much as it is about getting to know each other. He's in a position of power here concerning their future, and Blaine has absolutely no reason to trust him to do what's best for both of them.

“I meant what I said about letting you in on the decision when we pick a city,” Kurt says. “I don't want to be the kind of guy who just … I don't know. I don't want it to be like that.”

“That's nice, Kurt,” Blaine says, only sounding slightly sarcastic.

“Look, I know this still sucks for you,” Kurt hisses. “But what do you want me to do? I didn't make you the wife in this scenario.”

Blaine's shoulders slump and he sighs audibly. “I know, I know. Sorry. I just – do you understand at all where I'm coming from here?”

Kurt nods. “Of course! Of course I do! I thought it was going to be me for so long – look.” He turns so he's facing Blaine fully, searching his eyes. “How about we make a deal? I promise you that I will involve you in all major decisions and you promise me that you'll stop seeing me as the enemy here?”

“That's not how I see you,” Blaine says, startled. “That's not even what this is about. I don't – you're not the one I blame for this whole mess.”

“Well, that's good to know at least,” Kurt says, part relieved and part frustrated. He can tell that there's more. He can tell that Blaine is still holding back, and they're not going to get anywhere like this. But then he thinks about the last two hours and meeting Blaine's parents and seeing Blaine genuinely smile – not grin, not smirk, but _smile_ , with his whole face, as his dad told the story of how he'd found him cutting up his sheets when he as five to build himself a hammock. And he lets it go. They are making progress. That's really the best he can ask for. “I guess I should go. But – thanks, Blaine. For inviting me.”

“You kind of insisted,” Blaine reminds him. “It was a bit hard to say no.”

“You could have,” Kurt says. “But you didn't.”

“No, I didn't,” Blaine agrees.

And Kurt smiles at him, then walks back to his car. He can't wait to tell Carole about how his evening went – she hasn't even met Blaine and already seems more invested in their non-relationship than either of them.

**

Blaine watches him go and shivers in the cool night air, giving himself a few minutes before heading back inside. His parents will want to hug him and tell him how lucky he is that he got someone like Kurt. The thing is, Blaine does know he's lucky. Sort of. He could have had it much, much worse. But that doesn't change the fact that he has essentially no future.

_You're not the one I blame for this whole mess_ , he had told Kurt. It's me, he had wanted to add. It's my stupid decision to act all tough so people would leave me alone. It's my stupid choices that just completely got away from me, and it's the stupid law with its fucking dumb rules about families and it's this entire fucking world, but most of all, it's me. Not you.

He sighs, then turns around and heads back inside. There's nothing he can do about it now. What's done is done. At least Kurt seems willing enough to make his life at least comfortable. That will just have to be enough.


	8. Eight

“So, he's nice,” Blaine's mom says as soon as Blaine is back inside after having seen Kurt off. “And very handsome. I really like him!”

“Then why don't _you_ marry him?” Blaine answers, finally losing his temper with this whole sham of a happy family dinner. This is a requirement, nothing more. Just because he's starting to sort of get along with that “requirement” doesn't mean he's any more inclined to like the fact that someone else is making him do this.

“Easy, okay?” His mom holds up her hands, an obvious gesture to calm him, and Blaine hates that she has to do this. None of it is her fault. “I was just saying, I think you're actually really kind of lucky, Blaine. You know. Considering. He seems very nice.”

“I know.” He sighs. “Look, can we not talk about this right now? I'm kind of tired. It's been a long week.”

His mom smiles. “Sure, honey. We can talk tomorrow.”

He nods at her, grateful, and lets her hug him before he climbs the stairs to his bedroom. It's just after nine, but he thinks he's actually going to turn in early. He wasn't lying when he said he was tired – it has been quite a week and right now he just doesn't even want to _think_.

**

When he wakes up on Sunday, he actually has a text from Kurt, sent late last night: _thanks again for having me over, it was nice. :)_

He stares at it for a solid two minutes, fingers hovering over the reply button, but he honestly doesn't know what to text back. So eventually he just shoves the phone under his pillow and rolls out of bed and into the shower.

His dad is spending this Sunday playing golf with a coworker and his mom is having a friend over, and they're chatting and drinking tea in the living room. And Blaine is bored.

He thinks about calling Puck, he could totally climb out the window, it's not like he hasn't done it a million times before. But he actually is in enough trouble by now and while he really is _incredibly_ bored and could do with one of Puck's insane ideas right about now, he also doesn't want to add anything to his list of fuck-ups he's compiled over the past weeks.

He finishes reading his book and starts another one, reads until he can't sit still anymore. Then he picks up his guitar and starts plucking out some angry punk song, and when that doesn't help he switches over to the little melody that's been going around his brain for days – it's a bit melancholy and slow and it doesn't really do anything to put him in a better mood.

So he gives up on playing guitar too for now. The piano is downstairs in the living room with his mom and her friend, and if he goes in there now he'll have to play _for them_ instead of for fun and he doesn't want an audience today. He hasn't wanted an audience in that way for a long time now.

He drops backwards onto his bed, just lying there and staring at the ceiling. He just wants – to not be bored right now. Sundays totally suck when you're grounded. He sighs. He could always tell Puck to come over, but he knows his mom won't even let him cross the threshold. Also, as he's been told more than once, being grounded includes not having people over, unless there's a very good reason like a school project or a birthday or -

He sits up with a start, a bright grin spreading across his face. Impending marriage totally counts as special circumstances, right? It has to. His fingers have dug the phone out from under the pillow before he has finished the thought, and he texts Kurt without even considering what he's doing.

_I'm bored, wanna come over?_

It's only after he's sent the text that he starts thinking – what is he even going to do with Kurt here? It's not like they have a myriad of things to talk about and Kurt doesn't strike him as the kind of person who's into video games or Frisbee. Well, he supposes they can always just watch a movie, if they really don't have anything to talk about. Blaine is just not good with being alone for an entire day. It's boring.

It's only about ten minutes later when Kurt's reply comes through.

_Are you sure you haven't got the wrong number?_

Blaine laughs and texts back. _Kurt, seriously. Just get your ass over here. I can't go out cos I'm grounded._

_Oh, so you need me to entertain you, I get what this is_ , Kurt texts back, and Blaine can almost see the sarcastic grin on his face and it makes him smile.

_Pretty much. When can you be here?_ Blaine asks.

Kurt's reply comes a minute later. _Already on my way._

**

“So, was there a particular reason you asked me to come over?” Kurt asks, sitting cross-legged on Blaine's bed while Blaine sinks into his desk chair. He's not entirely sure why he's here yet, but he hadn't found it in himself to decline Blaine's invitation. It had suddenly seemed important that he do this.

“Not really, I just figured if we're going to be married and shit, we should probably start hanging out more. You know, practice this whole friendship thing a little so that we can be better roommates later.”

“That actually … makes quite a lot of sense. I'm impressed.”

“I have my moments.”

“So...” Kurt looks at him carefully. “Do you want to – talk?”

“Ugh, god no!” Blaine shakes his head emphatically.

“Okay, okay, forget I even asked! No talking then. Let's just sit here in silence until it's time for me to go home.”

“What would we even talk _about_?” Blaine asks. “Do we even have any of the same interests?”

Kurt nods towards Blaine's guitar that's leaning in the corner. “Music, it seems.”

“Well, yeah.” Blaine laughs. “But I doubt that there's much overlap between our tastes.”

Kurt grins. He may not know Blaine, but he has an eye for detail, something he's incredibly proud of and something he plans on using to his advantage until Blaine finally starts behaving like a normal person around him. “I can see your DVD collection from where I'm sitting,” he comments. “ _Chicago_? _The Sound of Music_? _Moulin Rouge_? Blaine, I can even see Julie Andrews' 1957 version of _Cinderella_. And we'll just not mention the _High School Musical_ DVDs at all, deal?”

“Those are – I just -” Blaine stammers, and Kurt raises both eyebrows at him.

“If you tell me now that your mom bought you all of those, I'm going to start laughing and I'm not going to stop until it's time to go home. Your secret love of musicals is a secret no longer, Blaine Anderson!”

“Okay, so?” Blaine shrugs. “I like showtunes. So what? I'm allowed to listen to whatever I want.”

Kurt actually admires him in this moment, even if he can't help but continue to poke fun at him. “What would your friends say, Blaine? Would you have to give back your leather jacket and patch up those cuts in your jeans? Would they confiscate your eyeliner?”

“You're such an asshole,” Blaine tells him, shaking his head, grinning. “I thought that was _my_ job.”

“Sorry,” Kurt says, even though he's really not sorry at all. This is way too much fun. “I just – this is definitely not what I imagined at all.”

“You keep saying that about me.”

“At least by now I'm fairly certain you'll keep surprising me.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Kurt shrugs. “I don't know. I guess. I don't know.”

“Do you want to watch one of those, maybe?” Blaine asks, gesturing toward his DVD collection. “I mean, we don't have to, I just...”

Kurt looks at him, taking in the disinterested expression on his face as if this doesn't matter to him at all, the way his shoulders tense just slightly while he waits for Kurt's response. How long has it been since someone just watched a musical with Blaine? Someone who wasn't his mom? Kurt smiles, nods at him. “I'd love to.”

Blaine's answering smile is careful and a little shaky, but it's a smile nonetheless.

**

They sit in the backyard in the last rays of the afternoon sun and it's getting cold quickly – it's early March and still unseasonably cold most of the time.

“You actually have a really nice house,” Kurt says, taking the coffee Blaine hands him and wrapping his fingers tightly around the mug to absorb the warmth of it.

“Yeah, it's okay, I guess,” Blaine says, sitting down on the garden wall next to Kurt.

Kurt wants him to keep talking. He wants to understand him. He doesn't get him at all – this Blaine who just sat next to him smiling happily while they were watching _Hairspray_ is not the same Blaine he sees (or doesn't see) at school every day, and Kurt has no idea how to make the two people go together as one person in his head. It's like there are two Blaines sometimes.

“I didn't expect it to be so nice,” he says before he can stop himself, and he knows that was a stupid thing to say.

Blaine laughs bitterly. “Gee, I wish I knew why I was such a jerk when I really have it all, a nice house, awesome parents, and yet I'm such a mystery! If only someone could explain!” He stares at Kurt, eyes wide, heaving a dramatic sigh. “If only a nice and normal boy would come along and save me...”

...Or not. Maybe there is really just one Blaine after all. “When have I ever given you the impression that I think you need saving?” Kurt asks, giving him a stern look.

“Kind of all the time?” Blaine answers. “Every time you tell me to stay out of trouble?”

“I want you to stay out of trouble, because if you get arrested, they'll make me marry a seventy-five year old accountant from Missouri instead.”

Blaine sighs. “I don't understand you.”

Kurt shrugs. “I don't understand you either. But I'm sorry about what I said.”

“It's okay.”

“No, it's not, but thank you for saying that.”

Blaine stares down at the ground in front of them while Kurt takes a sip of his coffee and suppresses a moan. He wonders if he could borrow a page from Blaine's book and walk off with the Anderson's coffee maker. Because this coffee is _excellent_.

“I -” Blaine looks up at him, head tilted to the side, and Kurt looks back expectantly. He has no idea what's coming next. “You're into cars, right?” Blaine asks him.

Kurt nods. “I wouldn't say 'into,' exactly. But I know about them. I appreciate them.”

“Want to see mine?” Blaine grins almost shyly. “It's a Prius and it's in the garage because I'm not allowed to drive right now, they took my keys away after I – anyway, do you want to see it?”

Kurt feels his eyes light up, he can't help it. There are things he's a lot more passionate about than cars, but still, this feels like – something. Something important. He can't put his finger on it. “Sure.”

“Awesome. This way.” Blaine hops off the wall and strolls through the garden toward the front of the house.

“Blaine?” Kurt asks, catching up quickly.

“Yeah?” 

“What did you do to have your keys taken away? I mean, you don't have to tell me, I'm just – curious.”

Blaine laughs, lifting his shoulders. “Kurt, it's okay. It's no big deal. I think the keys was the night I drove to Columbus with Puck and got drunk – no, hold on, that was cleaning the garden pond. The keys were originally that time I spray-painted Karofsky's car.”

Kurt gasps. “That was you?”

Blaine shrugs. “Yeah, that was me, why?”

Kurt bumps his shoulder against Blaine's, smiling. “Because out of all the stupid things you did, that might just be my favorite. I almost want to thank you for it.”

Blaine gives him a quick glance, blushing slightly. “You, um. Were actually part of the reason I even did it in the first place.”

“What?” Kurt stops in his tracks, rooted to the spot. “Wait. What?”

Blaine turns around to him, hands in his pockets, looking like it's no big deal at all. “I saw him shoving you around and figured he needed to be taught a lesson. That's all.”

“That was over a year ago,” Kurt says. “We didn't even know each other then.”

“Didn't matter. And it wasn't – it wasn't about _you_ , you know? I mean. Not you specifically. Like, I wasn't watching you or anything. I mean, I noticed you, because _hello_ , you're kind of _really hot_ , okay? But that was just – I didn't like the way he treated you. I would have done the same if he had been pushing some other kid around. I just don't – I don't like bullies.”

His face is unreadable, closed off, and Kurt thinks that this is not the whole story. He also knows he won't get any more out of Blaine right now, so he doesn't pry. “Thank you.” It seems the only thing he can think of to say right now.

“You're … welcome. I guess.”

He follows Blaine into the garage, and, okay, the car is gorgeous. “Will they ever let you drive it again?” Kurt asks, running a hand carefully across the side door.

“Don't know.” Blaine shrugs, then his face lights up. “I know you want to have a look under the hood, am I right?” He fishes the keys out of his pocket, dangling them in front of Kurt's nose. “Ta-daaa.”

Kurt frowns. “I thought they took them away?”

Blaine winks at him. “Well, they did. And I stole them back.”

“That doesn't seem like the smartest thing to do.”

“They won't notice as long as I don't actually _drive_ it, Kurt. I just like to come out here and sit in the car sometimes, it's kind of a good place to – think.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Blaine wiggles his eyebrows at him. “So. Want to have a closer look?”

“Blaine -” Kurt looks from the keys to his hands that are clean and soft and he just had a manicure, and still, he really _really_ wants to -

“Gloves are in the cupboard over there,” Blaine says, grinning, nodding his head toward the far corner of the garage.

“Oh, okay.” Kurt grins back at him. “I can't believe you have this just standing here, you should be allowed to drive it sometimes, it's not good for it if it just stands here -” he keeps talking as he walks over to the cupboard, reaching for the door handle, which is when Blaine suddenly takes a hurried step forward as if to stop him.

“Oh, no, wait, I think I have gloves here, Kurt _don't_ -” Blaine yells after him just as he pulls the door open.

“Um. Blaine?” He just stares, faintly taking in the sounds of Blaine approaching with hesitant footsteps. “Why is this cupboard full of garden gnomes?”

Blaine grins and shrugs, putting on his most innocent face. “They are – my mom's? She keeps meaning to put them up -”

“Blaine.” Kurt gives him a look that he hopes conveys _don't mess with me_ , and places his hands on his hips. “I've met your mother. And she has _taste_. These are not hers.”

Blaine sighs. “It just – started out as a sort of joke, okay?” he says. “Puck and I took one from the yard down the block just for fun. But -” he blushes, staring at his shoes.

Kurt looks at the gnomes, then at Blaine, barely able to suppress his laughter. “But what, Blaine?”

“He seemed lonely,” Blaine admits, blinking up at Kurt through thick lashes. “So I stole him some friends?”

“You are completely ridiculous.”

“I know.”

“Can you – are you going to put them back? I mean -”

“I don't know, I hadn't thought about it,” Blaine says. “They're just gnomes.”

“I'll help you.”

Blaine's head whips up. “What? … Why?”

Kurt shrugs. “I don't know. Because I feel like it.”

“You can't keep me out of trouble forever, you know that, right?” Blaine asks. “I'll keep screwing up. It's what I _do_.”

“Yes, but _why_?”

“Kurt -”

“No, hey, okay. It's okay. I'm not – let's just wait until after dark and then we'll put these back, okay?” Kurt wants to keep pushing, but Blaine is being so honest, so open right now, he doesn't want to risk him shutting down again. “In the meantime, I could use another coffee. I might actually steal that coffee maker from your parents. It's magical. This coffee is amazing!”

“Clearly, I'm a bad influence on you,” Blaine says, taking the mug from Kurt's hands. “Okay, come on. Let's make more coffee with the magical coffee maker. And if you're very nice to me, I'll maybe even let you push the button.”

“Yay,” Kurt exclaims, following Blaine into the house.


	9. Nine

“Dinner at my place tonight?” 

It's Friday and Blaine has been going to class pretty much the entire week. It's been less exhausting than he remembered, but a whole lot more boring. Dinner at Kurt's sounds like too much of an effort right now, if he's being honest, but they've been making what he thinks of as _progress_ , which basically means Kurt frowns a lot less and smiles a lot more around him, and he does not wish to jeopardize that.

“Sure.”

“Wonderful. Be there at seven sharp.”

Blaine straightens his shoulders, saluting Kurt. “Yes, sir!”

Kurt punches him in the arm. “And don't do that. I told you to stop doing that!”

“Then stop ordering me around.”

Kurt groans and turns his eyes toward the ceiling, then plasters on his best fake smile. “Blaine, would you like to have dinner with me and my family tonight at seven?”

“See, that wasn't so difficult -”

“Blaine!”

He laughs. “Yes, Kurt, I'd love to, thank you very much for inviting me.”

Kurt nods, seemingly appeased for now. “Now if you could just sound a _little_ less bored about the whole thing tonight when my parents are there?”

Blaine sighs. “No promises.”

“I know, I know.” Kurt's shoulders slump and he shakes his head at Blaine sadly. “I think we have some sort of a deal about never promising each other anything? At least it seems to be a recurring theme.”

“Do you want me to be nice tonight or not? Because pissing me off will accomplish nothing.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at him and adjusts the strap of his book bag. “See you tonight, Blaine.”

“Does that mean I don't have to go to glee club?”

Kurt just gives him a look over his shoulder as he walks away and Blaine shakes his head sadly. He's going to be in glee club for the rest of _forever_.

**

He sits down in his usual back corner, kicking his bag under the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest, preparing himself to just watch, as always.

“You're back,” Sam says, grinning at him. “Hi.”

Blaine gives him a confused look. It's the first time anyone other than Kurt has actually spoken to him in here. “Yeah. Might as well.”

“Are you ever going to actually sing something?” Santana asks.

Blaine shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Maybe he can't sing,” Brittany suggests.

“Trust me, he can,” Puck jumps in. “I've heard him!”

“Then why doesn't he?” Sugar wants to know. “It's weird just having him sit here.”

“Leave him alone, guys, I asked him to be here,” Kurt speaks up, dropping into the chair next to Blaine's.

Mr Schuester looks up from the motivational theme of the week on the whiteboard (“Destiny”), frowning. “They actually have a point, Kurt. This is glee club. We sing. I'm not sure he can be a part of the club if he has no intention of participating -”

“I'm right here!” Blaine throws up his hands in frustration. “Stop talking about me, I can actually _hear_ you, you know?”

Mr Schuester nods encouragingly. “Would you like to officially audition for glee club, Blaine?”

“Um, how about no?”

“But -”

“I thought your competition season was over anyway. What do you care if I sit here?”

“That's not the point -”

“I can leave,” Blaine offers. “This is lame anyway.”

“Dude, just sing something,” Puck whispers across the room.

“I'd actually like to hear you sing,” Kurt says.

Blaine just looks around the room at all the faces turned expectantly toward him and sighs. “Oh my god. Fine! Whatever!”

“Yaaay,” Brittany says, clapping her hands, and Santana gives her a fond look.

Blaine gets up off his chair and hops down to the front of the room. “You there, band dude.” He gestures toward the guitar player who's eyeing him with barely concealed terror on his face. “Okay if I borrow that guitar for a few minutes? I swear I actually know what I'm doing, as opposed to those losers up there.”

The guy nods, lifting the guitar strap over his head and handing it over to Blaine carefully. “I'd like this back in one piece, if that's at all possible,” he says, voice only shaking a little.

Blaine smiles at him. He's not a complete asshole, okay? He quickly whispers with the rest of the band before taking his position in front of the class. “Well, you asked for it,” is all he says before he starts playing.

It actually feels pretty damn good, he has to admit. Playing in front of people, singing in front of people again. His repertoire has changed a little since the last time he did this, but he chooses to think that it's actually better now.

_We've got the right to choose and_  
 _There ain't no way we'll lose it_  
 _This is our life, this is our song_  
 _We'll fight the Powers That Be just_  
 _Don't pick our destiny 'cause_  
 _You don't know us, you don't belong_

He's amazed when by the second verse, the majority of the people in the room actually start singing along, dancing in their chairs and obviously enjoying themselves. Okay, then, he thinks, he can totally work with that.

_We're not gonna take it, no, we ain't gonna take it, we're not gonna take it anymore_ he sings together with twelve other people in the room and for a moment, he's actually feeling kind of really good about this whole glee club thing. Maybe he's missed singing somewhere else than in the privacy of his own room or in Puck's basement where they had tried to form a punk band more than he has ever admitted to himself.

As soon as the song is over, he hands the guitar back to its rightful owner who looks both impressed and relieved at having his guitar back, and walks back to his chair, dropping into it unceremoniously, trying to hide his smile at the way the others are clapping him on the back when he walks past. That was _fun_.

He catches Kurt's gaze for a second, Kurt who looks as if he's trying very hard not to laugh.

“What?” he asks, annoyed.

Kurt pats his knee. “You think you're such a rebel, don't you?”

“Um, no, actually, I just really like this song.”

“It was good,” Kurt tells him. “Didn't know you had it in you.”

Blaine shrugs and stares at his shoes.

“You should do that more often.”

“Give in to peer pressure and make a fool of myself in front of a room full of weirdos?”

“Sing,” Kurt corrects him. “You're good, Blaine. You're really good.”

“So?” He feels the high from the performance finally draining out of him and the reality of his situation hits him hard once again. Because he will never perform in front of a crowd. He will never do more than perform in front of a group of friends. “It's not like I can make a career out of it.”

Kurt just watches him for a moment, then bumps their shoulders together. “You're still really good.”

Blaine grins, despite the hollow feeling in his stomach. “Thanks. I guess.”

**

“Interesting song choice,” Kurt says as they're walking to the parking lot side by side.

Blaine laughs. “It seemed – fitting. What with your theme of the week and everything.”

Kurt is quiet for a moment. “I know this is hard for you,” he says finally. “I don't even know what kinds of fits I would have thrown if I were in your position.”

“Is there a point to all of this?” Blaine snaps. He really doesn't want to talk about it, he just wants to forget for _five fucking minutes_ -

“The point is that I want you to know that I think I understand what you're going through. And that I really appreciate how hard you're trying.”

Blaine stops walking, staring at the back of Kurt's head until Kurt realizes Blaine is no longer beside him and turns around.

“Blaine?”

He doesn't really know what to say – he hadn't even known that Kurt was aware of the fact that he was trying.

“I didn't mean to offend you,” Kurt hurries to say. “I'm sorry if that was – condescending or something, I didn't mean -”

“No, it's okay,” Blaine says, falling back into step beside Kurt. “I do want this to work, you know?” he adds quietly after a second. “The alternative is just – I do want this to work.”

Kurt sighs. “I know, Blaine. Me too.”

“I used to do this all the time, you know?” Blaine says, not looking at Kurt.

“What?”

Blaine takes a deep breath, hunching his shoulders a little. This is kind of a big confession to make, but he thinks Kurt needs something from him. “I actually – I used to be in glee club. At my old school. It wasn't so bad.”

“What happened?” Kurt asks. “Are you ever going to tell me?”

Blaine shakes his head. “It's not much of a story. I'm not that guy anymore, okay? I was just saying – I don't know. I get why it's important to you. I guess.”

Kurt thinks about it, and there are so many questions he wants to ask, but he knows Blaine won't tell him. At least not yet. “Okay.”

“I guess I'll see you tonight, then?” Blaine manages a smile as they part ways at Kurt's car.

“Seven sharp!”

“I'll be there.”

**

Mercedes calls as soon as he has the car door closed behind him, and Kurt puts her on speaker as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Your boy can _sing_ ,” she opens the conversation.

Kurt laughs. “I know! I was as surprised as you!”

“That song, though -”

“I kind of liked it!”

“You did _not_!”

“I did too. And I think he did a really great job with it.”

“Sam says the same.”

“Sam is a smart guy.”

“I think he has a crush on Blaine, won't shut up about him for more than five minutes.”

Kurt snorts. “Oh my god, that solves all of our problems! We'll swap! Sam gets Blaine and I get you, you have to admit we'd be fabulous together!”

Mercedes sighs audibly. “Kurt, honestly, always with the reminding me that I used to have a crush on you sophomore year? You can be such a jerk sometimes!”

“Aw, honey, you know I don't mean it like that.”

“I know. And I'd marry you in a heartbeat if it weren't for Sam.”

“I'm really happy for you two, by the way,” Kurt tells her honestly. “In case I haven't said it yet.”

“You have,” Mercedes assures him. “But it's always good to hear. So thank you. How are you and Blaine doing? Aside from the fact that he has apparently completely corrupted your taste in music.”

Kurt bites his lip. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Sometimes.”

“Good enough.”

“What is it?”

“Blaine likes musical theater and there's more than one Julie Andrews movie in his DVD collection.”

“Oh my god.” She gasps. “Maybe you _are_ soulmates after all!”

“Shut up,” he laughs. “We can't all be like you and Sam. But it's nice to know that we have _something_ in common, at least. That should make it easier. After all, we will be spending a lot of time together.”

“I haven't even asked you about how you're doing all week, I'm a terrible friend.”

“No, you're not,” he assures her. “You've had Sam on your mind. You have a good excuse.”

“We should hang out some time this weekend. Catch up properly. I can tell you all about the wedding preparations and you can complain about your boyfriend -”

“He's not my boyfriend,” Kurt interrupts without even thinking.

“Oh, Kurt -”

“It's fine, let's text later and we'll make plans for Saturday, okay?”

“Okay,” she says.

He puts on music for the rest of the drive home in an attempt to distract himself. It doesn't really work. Blaine and he might not be dating or even be close, but lately, he's still all Kurt can think about – which is to be expected, he supposes. They're going to get married in a few months. And then they'll spend the rest of their lives together. He just hopes there won't be too many instances where he has to bail his wife out of jail, he doesn't understand why Blaine keeps behaving the way he does. But he finds that he really, really wants to.


	10. Ten

Blaine is at the door at seven sharp. He's quite proud of himself for making it on time, but then, he'd talked his dad into dropping him off. The walk to Kurt's place is even longer than the walk to school and as much as he likes walking, it gets boring at some point, and it is really time-consuming. Even if he doesn't have any plans for this Friday night anyway. Puck is at Quinn's tonight, visiting his daughter. He'll be a full-time dad soon once he and Quinn get married and will have a lot less time to hang out with Blaine, so Blaine figures he might as well get used to it now.

He has no idea how Puck does it – handling the responsibility of being a father at such a young age. Sure, Quinn's parents have been raising the baby for the past one and a half years, but since it was more than likely that Puck and Quinn would get matched up (having a child together pretty much represents perfect compatibility in the eyes of the law), Puck has known all along what would happen after graduation. At least, Blaine thinks, he genuinely cares about Quinn. It's not a bad match. And Puck gets to be the husband, so at least he doesn't have _that_ to worry about. No Bridge clubs and pottery classes in Puck's future. Lucky bastard.

Kurt opens the door almost as soon as Blaine rings the doorbell. “Right on time,” he says, smiling.

“Hi,” Blaine says. “Why do you sound so surprised by that?`”

Kurt just gives him one of _those_ looks and waves him inside. “Shut up. Okay. Are you ready to meet my family? Will you actually talk to them this time?” He sounds nervous.

“Kurt.” Blaine touches his arm briefly, drawing back immediately when Kurt meets his eyes. “It's going to be fine.”

“I know.” Kurt laughs. “Yes, I know. Okay. Come on, then.”

Kurt's family is in the living room, obviously trying to look busy. Kurt's dad is studying the remote in his hand even though the television is off, and what must be Kurt's mom glancing over a magazine in the direction of the door, and Blaine thinks it's oddly endearing. The only one staring at him quite openly is without a doubt the tallest ten-year old Blaine has ever seen, standing next to the couch with his jaw hanging open as he takes in Blaine's cut up jeans, his leather jacket, his face. Blaine's mom had pleaded with him to go without the eyeliner for tonight at least, but – he'd felt oddly naked without it. And it's not like he's wearing it all the time, it's just, this is meeting new people and he doesn't even know why he needs to present himself this way, but he just really wanted to, okay? Makes him feel more like himself.

“Hi,” Blaine says, giving the room a short wave and bouncing on the heels of his feet. He doesn't really know where to look and he has no idea why he's suddenly feeling nervous.

“Nice to see you again, Blaine,” Burt says, getting up off the couch and walking over to hold out his hand.

This time, Blaine reaches out to shake it. “Hi, Mr Hummel.”

“Hello,” Kurt's mom (step-mom, technically, Blaine remembers), says, and offers her hand too.

Blaine smiles at her. Introductions. He does remember how to do this properly. “Nice to meet you.”

“Kurt said you play guitar,” the kid finally says, apparently getting over his initial shock of seeing Blaine.

“I do,” Blaine confirms.

“I play drums. Wanna start a band?”

“Finn,” Kurt hisses, but Blaine laughs.

“Show me what you can do later and we can maybe talk about it.”

“I'm going to be in a band when I'm grown-up,” Finn informs him. “Or play football.”

“That's … nice?” Blaine smiles at him. “Good for you!” He's not sure at all what he's doing, but he catches Kurt's eyes and Kurt gives him a small smile, so he guesses he can't be doing too badly. Well, that's good, then.

**

Kurt can't deny the fact that he's been incredibly nervous about this second attempt at Blaine meeting his family – and last time it had only been his dad. With Carole and Finn finally back from Carole's sister, it feels like there's so much more that could possibly go wrong. And even if Blaine had promised to behave himself and be nicer than last time, he's still just – Blaine. And Blaine does stupid things sometimes. Kurt is beginning to think that he actually can't help it. He knows Blaine well enough by now to trust him when he says he's going to try. He also knows him well enough to still be kind of worried about what the night will bring.

But he's actually nice to both Burt and Carole, chatting pleasantly and effortlessly back and forth with both of them, even finds something to talk about with Finn over dinner (some cartoon Kurt has never watched, he can't really follow their conversation as they start quoting their favorite parts to each other). And Kurt is – pleased. Maybe there's hope yet.

There's a tense moment when Blaine compliments Carole's cooking and she offers to give him the recipe because it's Kurt's favorite. Blaine visibly tenses, eyes darkening, but Kurt nudges his knee with his own under the table and shakes his head at him silently, hoping to convey _we'll talk about it later_.

Blaine doesn't look too happy at the reminder of his future role in Kurt's life and is very quiet for a few minutes, but eventually, the conversation picks up again as if nothing had happened at all.

**

He takes Blaine up to his room after dinner. He doesn't want to overwhelm his family with too much exposure to this strange boy just yet. For now, he's just grateful that the evening pretty much went off without a hitch.

“Thank you,” he tells Blaine sincerely as soon as they're safely in his room.

“For what?”

Kurt shrugs. “I don't know. For making an effort, I guess. For coming over here tonight. I know this wasn't your favorite thing to do with a Friday. But Friday night dinners are kind of a big thing around here. I felt like you should be included in it.”

“Oh. I didn't know this was like a thing. You know. A family thing. I could have come over any other night.”

“No.” Kurt shakes his head. “I think – I think you should actually think about maybe coming over every Friday night. If you want. I mean, I understand if you don't. I just – want you to know that you could. If you wanted.”

“Oh, okay.” Blaine swallows. “That's – nice, I guess. Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” Kurt hurries to assure him. “I'm not – I don't expect you to hang out here all the time. I just wanted to say that you're included now, if you want to be.”

“Okay.”

“I think they actually liked you,” Kurt admits. “I don't know if I've ever seen you – like this, before.”

“You act like you can't believe that I can be nice.” Blaine grins.

“I know you can be,” Kurt admits, realizing it's the truth. “But you do remember the last time you came over, right?”

“Kurt, that was -”

“I know, forget it.” Kurt waves his hand through the air. “This is all taking some getting used to. For me too.”

“I know.” Blaine sighs, sitting down on Kurt's bed. “I just figure that if we're going to do this, pissing you off all the time isn't going to make my life any easier, so...”

“Blaine.” Kurt sits down next to him. “I have no intention of making your life hard at all. And I don't really know how many more ways I can tell you that. I don't make the rules, but I can tell you right now that I won't dictate your life choices. We _have_ to get married. And I think it would be easier if – if we could at least be friends. Don't you think?”

Blaine stares at his hands. “You have a point. I'm just not good at that, okay? I'm – sorry. But you know me. And this is just weird. We'd never be friends if we weren't – you know.”

Kurt nods slowly. “You can't know that, though.”

“Uh, yeah, I can. We've been going to the same school for close to two years and you've never even looked at me.”

“You haven't exactly made an effort to get to know me either, have you?”

“True.” Blaine grimaces. “What would you have done if I had, though? Would you ever have taken me seriously at all?”

Kurt thinks about it for a second. “I really don't know, Blaine. But it's not impossible. You've seen glee club. We're a rather colorful bunch of people. You and I might just have found something to bond over. I mean, I'm getting along with most of _those_ weirdos, so -”

“Are you saying that I'm a weirdo?”

Kurt laughs. “Blaine, I mean this in the nicest possible way, okay? But yes, you are.”

“So are you, though,” Blaine replies, nudging their shoulders together with a smirk. “Just look at your clothes. And your hair. And seriously, Kurt, you're in _show choir_. And, like, _really_ into it. So you're not exactly normal by anyone's standards either.”

“I like being different,” Kurt says, shrugging. Oddly, he doesn't feel like he has to defend himself – so many people have pointed out his more obvious idiosyncrasies over the years and used them to tease and bully him. But when Blaine says it, it doesn't seem hostile at all. “I've always been a little different. I like it that way.”

“You know what?” Blaine looks him straight in the eyes, and in this moment, his face is completely open. “I like that you're different too.”

Kurt feels himself blush, but doesn't look away. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

He feels like he should return the compliment, offer Blaine something to let him know how much it means to him to hear this. In the end, he decides to just be honest. “You know, I might not agree with some of your choices. But I really admire the way you stand up for yourself. Everyone knows you're gay and I've never seen them push you around. I wish I had found a way to get them off my back like – well, not quite like you, but I just wish I had that too, you know?”

Blaine looks away, and Kurt can't help but feel like maybe this was exactly the wrong thing to say. “Thanks,” Blaine says, but doesn't meet his eyes again.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” Kurt asks.

Blaine shakes his head. “Nope. I'm technically still grounded. But my mom is cool with letting me hang out here tonight since, you know, you're my fiancé and shit.”

Kurt bites his lip, thinking. Things are still so awkward between them, and as much as he'd like to be alone with his thoughts for a while, he doesn't want Blaine to leave just yet. He feels like every time they spend a considerable amount of time together, things get just a little easier. Might as well get in some time together tonight. “We could watch a movie,” he suggests.

Blaine's face does light up at that. “Do you have _Mary Poppins_? Puck would never watch that with me and it's kind of a movie that's better to watch _with_ someone.”

Kurt gives Blaine a stern look. “Blaine, is Julie Andrews in that movie? Of _course_ I have it.”

“Awesome! Let's watch that, then! If you don't mind, I mean.”

“I don't mind at all. I'm just glad you didn't suggest one of my dad's action movies.”

“Um, have you _seen_ my DVD collection?”

“Touché.” Kurt laughs. “You know what, Blaine Anderson? You're really different too. I think I like that about you.”

Blaine smiles and looks pleasantly surprised, and for a moment, they just sit there looking at each other. And, wow, Blaine actually has really nice eyes, Kurt realizes. Expressive. Kind of golden-brown in the soft light of the room. And with really long, really pretty lashes – and dark eyeliner that's completely smudged again.

“Movie, right.” He gets up off the bed quickly, blushing a little, noticing Blaine lower his head and bite his lip as a similar blush seems to spread across his face. “Wait here, I'll be right back. Just going to get us some coffee. Do you want coffee?”

“Coffee sounds great,” Blaine says, and Kurt hurries out of the room.

Well, that was weird.

He makes his way to the kitchen, leaving Blaine alone in his room and hoping really hard that he doesn't use the unsupervised time to go through Kurt's wardrobe or, like, glue his bedsheets to the window. Whatever counts as an awesome joke in Blaine Anderson's head.

He's not too worried, though. It's strange, but when he'd seen Blaine's name on his letter all those weeks ago, he hadn't really pictured them sitting in his room and watching _Mary Poppins_ together. He's not entirely opposed to this turn of events.


	11. Eleven

Somehow, after that second family dinner, things are better. They're not perfect by any means and Blaine still doesn't really feel any better about his future slipping away from him, but since there's not anything he can do about it at this point and dwelling on it just makes him sad and angry, he decides instead to enjoy the last months of his freedom.

So he hangs out with Puck and plays video games (whenever he can sneak out of the house or convince his mom that they're working on a school project). They spend an entire free period sneaking into the Cheerios' locker room and knotting all of their pom-poms together, stringing them across the room like garlands. The few times Blaine can manage to get away unseen at night, they sneak into bars and drink beer – never in Lima, though. For some reason, Blaine doesn't want to get word of what he's doing getting back to Kurt. And his parents, of course, because seriously, they'll disown him one of these days. Sometimes, he can't deal with the silently disappointed way his mom looks at him sometimes when she thinks he can't see. He likes it much better when they can laugh together. He doesn't actually want to cause them trouble. He just kind of ends up doing it anyway.

He hangs out with Kurt at least once a week – he does a few Friday night dinners over at the Hummel's and even invites Kurt back to have dinner at his own place a few times. At some point, they have also started randomly texting each other, and Blaine finds he rather enjoys Kurt's sarcastic commentary on anything and everything. It makes him laugh.

It's a Thursday in early April when Kurt grabs his arm after glee club to make him stay behind a moment – Blaine has given up arguing with Kurt about this and just attends glee club regularly now, because whatever, Puck is there, and sometimes even Sam talks to him now. In fact, Sam seems oddly fascinated with Blaine. Which might also have to do with the fact that Blaine is one of the few people who laugh at his weird impressions.

“Can I ask you something?” Kurt lets go of his arm when Blaine stops, looking nervous and a bit unsure of himself.

“Sounds serious.” Blaine drops his backpack, gesturing for Kurt to speak.

“Ha. No. I mean, yes. It … kind of is. Or could be. I don't know.”

“What is it, Kurt?”

Kurt shrugs. “What do you want to do about the wedding?”

This is … not the question Blaine had been expecting. And he's never thought about it, not really, he had just assumed they'd eventually go down to city hall after graduation, with their parents as witnesses, and take care of the paper work. No big deal. For some reason, he believes that that is not the answer Kurt wants, though. “I – don't know. Why? What did you want to do?”

Kurt sighs, dropping into a chair, and Blaine sits down next to him carefully. He's not sure he wants to be talking about this right now. And they're at school. At least the rest of glee club has left already, because if this turns into a fight, he knows which side they are going to take, and it's not going to be his. He's under no illusions about Kurt's friends – he knows that while none of them are behaving particularly hostile towards him, they still only tolerate him at best, and even that only for Kurt's sake. It's not that he cares whether they like him or not. He just – knows.

“I just thought we should talk about what we want to do, Blaine,” Kurt says. “I mean, we don't have to do anything. No one can _make_ us do anything. And I know that we're not – lots of people just have the short ceremony, it's no big deal.”

“But it's not what you want,” Blaine clarifies.

“I don't know what I want anymore,” Kurt admits. “I'm being silly, forget it. It's just that I've been helping Mercedes plan her wedding these past few weeks and it made me think – forget it, I shouldn't have brought it up, we're not like them, we can just -” He shakes his head and starts to get up, but Blaine reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder before he can get far.

“Kurt!”

Kurt sinks back into his chair, lifting his shoulders a little, clearly embarrassed. “It doesn't matter.”

“You want a real wedding.” It's not a question.

“I don't know, Blaine, okay?” He stares down at the floor, unable to meet Blaine's eyes. “I just don't think it's fair that we – that we don't get to have that. You know. Just because – just because there's a deadline for these things and we're among those not lucky enough to – It's just not fair, okay?”

“Who says we don't get to have that?” Blaine's throat feels dry and he has literally _no idea_ what he's saying or doing, and he's still not excited about this, but – but. There had been a time where he might have been. And Kurt is right, it isn't fair. “We can do whatever we want, Kurt.”

Kurt's head snaps up. “Wait, what? But -”

“We can have a party, if you want,” Blaine says. “People have parties when there are big changes in their life, right? We can – I don't know. Do _something_ , at least.”

“You're okay with that?” Kurt asks. “Look, I'm not even saying that I want you to walk down the aisle and write your own vows or anything, but -” he laughs. “I just. I want the suit, Blaine! I really just want that _stupid_ suit.”

“Then wear that stupid suit,” Blaine tells him. “I'll be the one in the dirty jeans. Just, yeah, don't make me walk down the aisle, there's no reason you have to rub it in that I'll be your fucking _wife_ for the rest of days. But we can totally have a party.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says, turning in his chair to face him. “Blaine – thank you. That really means a lot to me.”

“I know,” Blaine assures him. “I know. You wouldn't have asked me if it didn't.”

“It's such a stupid fantasy,” Kurt says, breathing out an embarrassed laugh. “I just always wanted a wedding, you know? I actually have a trunk full of wedding magazines hidden under my bed.” He hides his face behind his hands. “You may laugh at me now.”

“Maybe later,” Blaine says, and smiles through the lump in his throat. He wishes he were able to find the bright side to all of this the way Kurt is. “For now, let's just get out of here, okay?”

“What are you doing this afternoon?” Kurt asks. “I mean, I could come over and we could talk about it some more? Make sure we're on the same page here?”

That's actually pretty much the last thing Blaine wants to do, but even he can't find it in himself to deny Kurt this. He's been so caught up in being pissed at the world for being so fucking unfair to _him_ , and Kurt has been pretty awesome so far, if he's being honest with himself. Also, if Kurt wants to go through with this, he kind of wants to have a hand in the planning to make sure it doesn't get too embarrassing.

“Sure,” he says. “We can do that. No problem. Just – Kurt, nothing too big, okay? I mean, it's not – _we're_ not -”

“Blaine, I know,” Kurt says quietly. “Believe me, I know. Let's just make the most of it, okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine agrees. Because that's actually something he's pretty damn good at. He has a lot of practice with that. And he's going to need a lot more of it, with the life that's been chosen for him.

**

“Are you okay?” his mom asks when he walks into the kitchen that night after Kurt has gone home. They'd spent the afternoon in Blaine's room, Kurt very carefully testing the waters about the wedding, and Blaine mostly just agreeing to most of his suggestions, because honestly, it's a party. Nothing more. And Kurt seemed to think the same – basically all he'd asked was that they invite a few friends and have a nice meal and that they dress up. Totally manageable.

And yet Blaine feels tired and kind of – weird about the whole thing. Because essentially, it's the party that celebrates the end of his freedom for the rest of forever. “I'm fine,” he tells his mom.

“Blaine - “

“I said I'm fine!”

“It's about the wedding, isn't it?”

He sighs. “I'm okay with the wedding,” he says. “Well, the part where we're having a party. Nothing wrong with a party. It's just the occasion that's making me a bit sick.”

“Oh honey.”

“No, it's fine. I'll get used to it.”

“I hate that you're taking this so hard,” she says, hugging him. “I wish I could make this better for you.”

“I know, mom,” he says, hugging her back and just letting himself be held for a minute. It's comforting. “I guess it's my own fault for – well, for being me.”

“Don't say that,” she says, wiping a hand across her eyes that are slightly wet. “Please. Don't ever say that, Blaine.”

**

His mood doesn't improve the next day, and he actually cancels dinner with the Hummels for the first time since Kurt had told him he was wanted there.

“I'm sorry,” he tells Kurt. “It's just that I – have a headache. I should probably stay home and sleep it off.”

Kurt looks at him with actual worry in his eyes, placing a gentle hand on his arm as they say goodbye in the school parking lot. “It's okay, Blaine. Go home and get some rest.”

“Yeah, I think I will,” he says.

“It's no big deal,” Kurt assures him. “Let me know if there's anything I can do. Keep the blinds closed and drink a lot of water, but not too cold, that usually makes it worse, at least for me, I don't know -”

“Thank you, Kurt,” Blaine says, and feels like such an asshole.

On Saturday, he snaps at his dad for no good reason, he's just in a really foul mood.

“Blaine, I'm running down to the store, do you want me to get you anything?” his dad asks.

“I just want some fucking peace and quiet and maybe my car keys back so that I can get away from here for a while. But that would probably be bad parenting, I'm sure making me walk to school every day will make me all nice and normal in the long run!”

His dad is such a nice guy and so very bad with confrontation, and Blaine feels terrible at the hurt that's flashing across his face. God, why does he have to keep doing this?

He turns around without finding it in himself to apologize right now and flees back to his room.

That night, he climbs out the window and lets Puck drive him to Scandals where he has a few beers and grinds a bit on the dance floor while Puck flexes his arms for some guys over at the bar, obviously enjoying the attention very much.

“Hey, Sexy,” a voice says close to his ear, and he turns to find some guy about his age standing there grinning at him in a way that is probably supposed to be seductive. “Let me buy you a drink?”

Blaine shakes his head. “No, thank you, please find someone else to grace with your presence.”

The guy doesn't seem to get the message. Instead of leaving, he presses in closer, lowering his mouth to Blaine's ear, one hand sliding over his hip and down to his ass. “My car is out back. Tinted windows. Should we just skip the drinks?”

Blaine rolls his eyes and gives the guy a shove that sends him stumbling backwards into the crowd of dancers, then he turns and walks off toward the exit, grabbing Puck's wrist on his way out to drag him along behind. “We're out of here, come on!”

“But I was just -” Puck protests. “Hey, no, wait, I haven't even finished my beer -”

Blaine keeps walking until they're at Puck's car, ignoring his friend's protests. He's never liked Scandals much anyway.

His parents are not pleased when he comes stumbling home just a little after midnight, and there's a lot of shouting going on, the usual things he has heard so many times – _didn't even know where you were – you could have been dead – why do you always have to – don't know what to do with you anymore – every time, Blaine – real consequences this time – we were so worried_...

It all pretty much blends together in his head and he just stands there and lets them shout at him, because it kind of feels good, actually. Anger is better than disappointment. So much better.

In the end, they forbid him to hang out with Puck ever again (yeah, and good luck with that, he's almost eighteen, he's almost out of here anyway) and it's decided that from now on his mom will drive him to school every morning and pick him up in the afternoon and he's to stay downstairs where they can see him until dinner, doing his homework. During the night, there will be bed checks to make sure he's in his room. And they're putting him back in therapy. He rolls his eyes at that because when had that ever helped, there was a reason he had stopped going after a few months, but he knows better than to argue.

So on Sunday, he stays home. He has ignored all of Kurt's texts since Friday night and keeps ignoring them all through Sunday as well. It was stupid of him to ever assume they could be friends. What would Kurt want with a friend like Blaine anyway? Blaine doesn't fit into Kurt's glittering show choir world and he doesn't exactly want Kurt to make an effort to fit into his. He imagines Kurt at Scandals and shudders. Nope. No way. Not gonna happen. He figures the only reason Kurt is texting him anyway is to talk about the wedding. And he can _not_ deal with that this weekend.


	12. Twelve

Monday doesn't start off well – his mom tries talking to him over breakfast but Blaine just feels on edge and angry and just grunts his responses until she gives up trying.

She drives him to school and he's silent during the drive – he can feel how irrational his anger is at this point, he's not even angry at _her_ , but he can't seem to snap out of it. She puts the car in park in front of the school and looks over at him as he opens the passenger side door to get out of the car.

“I love you, Blaine,” she says. “I hope you know that.”

He sighs, deflating a little. “I know, mom.” He shuts the door behind himself and walks off toward the school without looking back.

As soon as he's sure his mom has driven away, he takes a sharp left and heads for the bleachers instead. He is so not in the mood for class right now.

It's between second and third period when a shadow falls over him. He opens his eyes, and for once, it isn't Sue Sylvester coming to find him. It's actually Kurt.

Kurt, who looks down at him with a careful, slightly disappointed, slightly worried look on his face. “What are you doing here?”

Blaine sits up, rubbing his eyes. “Taking a nap. Until I was so rudely interrupted.”

“So you're – are you okay?” He sounds stressed, with a little relief mixed in, and Blaine gives him a confused look. 

“Of course I'm okay, what -”

Kurt's shoulders sag, the guarded expression leaving his eyes. “You asshole,” he says, face pale now, body shaking a little. “You stupid fucking – I can't believe you just -”

“Whoah, what?” Blaine holds up both hands in a placating gesture, blinking up at Kurt. “What did I do this time?”

“I was worried, okay?” Kurt nearly shouts at him.

“Uh, why?”

“Because -” Kurt stabs a finger at him. “Friday you looked like shit all day and you barely said a word to me and then you said you had a headache and needed to go home and you looked _terrible_ , okay? And then you didn't respond to a single one of my texts _all weekend_ and you _didn't answer your phone_ and I was _worried sick_ , you jerk! I thought – I don't even know, but don't _ever_ do that to me again, okay?”

Blaine feels his jaw hanging open at Kurt's outburst, actually a little overwhelmed with the apparent emotion behind it. “I – had no idea that you cared so much.”

Kurt huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes. “We're friends, you moron! Of course I worry!”

“I didn't know,” Blaine repeats, quietly. “I'm so sorry, Kurt, I didn't even think -”

“Obviously not.”

“- I didn't mean to worry you.” He scrambles up off the ground, standing up in front of Kurt, shrugging his shoulders. “I swear, I didn't mean to. I'm really sorry.”

Kurt wipes his eyes that look a little red and laughs shakily, then punches him in the arm. _Hard_. “You better be!”

“Ow!” Blaine exclaims, rubbing his arm, because Kurt is strong and that had _hurt_.

“You deserved it!”

“Maybe I did.”

“Come to biology with me?” Kurt pleads. “You don't even have to pay attention, just please, don't give them an excuse to give you even more trouble.”

Blaine sighs. He thinks he probably owes Kurt this after ignoring him all weekend. “Okay. Fine.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says, and Blaine can see that he means it. He really has no idea why Kurt even still bothers with him at this point.

**

Biology is _stupid_. It's never been his favorite subject, but today Blaine can't even pretend to be following anything the teacher says. He makes it ten minutes into the lesson before he gets his book out of his backpack and just starts reading. He doesn't even bother hiding it under the table. At least he's in the room. That's all they can ask of him, really. And it's not like his high school diploma will actually ever be good for anything.

He can feel Kurt giving him worried looks from the seat next to his, but honestly, he's just – so not interested in this class.

“Mr Anderson?”

He looks up at the sound of his name, meeting his teacher's eyes. Everyone appears to be staring at him. Figures. What's about to unfold is probably the highlight of the lesson with how boring things had been up until now.

“Yes?”

She gives him a stern look. “Please come and see me after class? And I'll have that book, please!”

“That's okay, I've already read it once,” Blaine says, handing it over. “I'd recommend you have a look inside, maybe you'll learn something. Jasper Fforde is basically a genius and it seems like you could do with broadening your horizon a little.”

The teacher pales and Blaine can feel more than half of the class holding their collective breaths.

“Principal's office. Now!” she says, voice barely controlled.

Blaine packs together his things and walks out of the room, but not before catching Kurt's half-worried, half-disappointed gaze.

He looks back at him, shrugging. _I tried_ , he thinks. _You should have known this would happen, don't look at me like that_.

He ends up with detention _again_ and a twenty-minute lecture on how lucky he is not to be suspended with all the stunts he's been pulling over the past two years. As a result, he's late for history, which is too bad because this is one subject he can almost stand. But whatever, right?

Kurt has saved him a seat, though. While that is kind of sweet and at least makes him think he can't have screwed up things completely between them, it also means he's now being subjected to his worried looks throughout the entire rest of the period.

They're walking to lunch together afterwards, and Blaine just can't come up with an excuse to get away even if he feels like he really just doesn't want to be here right now. He's feeling jittery, pent-up energy buzzing under his skin and there's anger sizzling deep inside, the same anger he hasn't been able to get rid of all weekend.

He's almost glad when Kurt excuses himself to the restroom, telling Blaine he'll be meeting him in the cafeteria and to save him a seat. Blaine agrees, walking on by himself and feeling like he can finally breathe a little.

Which is when something collides with his shoulder, knocking him sideways into the row of lockers to his left.

“Look, it's Hummel's little wife,” a voice sneers. Karofsky. Of course.

“He's even put on make up, isn't that nice?” Azimio comments.

Blaine pushes himself off from the lockers, twirling around to face them. He can feel the anger bubbling over into full-blown rage, running hot through his veins until he's burning up with it. “Walk away,” he hisses. “Walk away now or -”

“Or what?” Karofsky towers over him, smirking. “What are you gonna do to us, dwarf? Cook us dinner?”

Azimio tugs at Blaine's jacket, frowning. “He's not even wearing a dress! How can they tell which one is the woman, everyone is going to think it's Hummel with that face of his.”

“Yeah, how does it feel being a wife to a little girl like Hummel?” Karofsky asks. “Does he even _have_ anything he could stick up your ass or -”

Blaine lunges, shoving Karofsky so hard he falls backwards against Azimio. “Just shut the _fuck_ up, I'm going to -” He shoves him again, raising his arm to land a punch, when he hears Kurt's voice just down the hall, yelling.

“Blaine!”

He whips his head around, seeing Kurt weaving his way toward him through the quickly gathering crowd of onlookers.

“Stay out of this, Kurt,” he warns, the blind, seething rage making every motion a little more precise, every detail a little bit clearer. He has Karofsky by the collar of his jacket, ready to land a punch any second now.

“The hell I will, what do you think you're doing?”

“You're going to just let him order you around like that?” Karofsky throws him an evil grin.

“Maybe he likes it,” Azimio suggests.

Blaine hesitates a second too long, missing his chance, because in a few quick strides Kurt is at his side, grabbing his arm. “Don't,” he pleads. “He's not worth it!”

Blaine shakes him off, turning his attention back on the two bullies. “We can take this outside,” he suggests, almost calmly. “You two against the one of me. What do you say?”

“Blaine -” Kurt calls, sounding almost desperate, but Blaine tunes him out. This is between himself and these _assholes_.

Sue Sylvester's voice cuts through his thoughts, as loud and as sharp as always.

“Well, I say you can all go back to class or lunch or wherever you came from, and Anderson, you can follow me back to my office, if you please.”

He has no idea where Sue even came from, but there she stands, towering over all of them, hands on her hips.

“They started it,” he spits, glaring at her.

“They did,” Kurt jumps in. “I saw it. Blaine was just defending himself, please -”

“Did I ask for a recap?” Sue raises an eyebrow at him. “My office. Now!”

Blaine just gives up and follows her, not even looking back at Kurt who's standing there, staring after him. He's pretty sure that he just effectively ended their weird friendship with picking a fight in the middle of the school hallway, but god, those _jerks_! He just really cannot stand bullies.

**

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” Sue asks, leaning back in her chair.

“Defending myself,” Blaine tells her, meeting her eyes directly. “I really don't see where the problem is here.”

“The problem is that those two gorillas are twice your size and you wouldn't have been looking any prettier once they were done with you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Blaine says. “And shouldn't you be telling me off for picking a fight in the middle of a public high school or something?”

Sue dismisses the argument with a wave of her hand. “I'm well aware that you weren't the one who started it.”

“Then why am I the one sitting in your office right now?” he asks.

She leans forward across her desk, effectively staring him down. “Because you were actually doing better, Blaine. And I'd like to know what's going on with you right now. I know you've already been to the principal's office once today. I can send you straight back there, if you'd like.”

“No – no.” He sighs, slumping back in his chair. “But I actually didn't do anything! They were -”

“I know!” Sue interrupts. “I'm not giving you more detention, if that's what you're worried about. But I do request that you hang out in here for the rest of the lunch period until you feel calm enough to face the rest of the student body again without turning homicidal. Oh, and Mr Hummel?” she calls in the direction of the door. “You may come in now!”

Blaine turns his head toward Sue's shut office door, which is opening at her words, Kurt sticking his head inside. “Are you sure? Are you planning on killing both of us? Because I wasn't even there for the actual fight -”

“Have a seat,” Sue says, before turning her attention back to Blaine. “You know,” she sighs. “You remind me of a young, less male Sue Sylvester. But my hair is better than yours.”

With that, she gets up out of her chair, smoothing her track suit over her arms. “Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a football coach to sabotage. Talk amongst yourselves. And I'll know if you touch any of my trophies, I have surveillance cameras hidden in the walls. Had them installed last year after someone broke in and peed in my desk drawer. And close the door when you leave.”

Kurt looks at Blaine once Sue is gone, face pale but somewhat amused, and Blaine can guess what he wants to ask.

“I didn't pee in Sue's office,” he hastens to assure him. “I swear that wasn't me. It was probably someone she kicked off the Cheerios.”

“I wasn't implying anything,” Kurt says.

“No, you weren't.”

Kurt's face falls and his shoulders slump. “Blaine, about those jerks -”

“No, Kurt!” Blaine holds up a hand to stop him. “I don't even wanna hear it. Okay? I just – I'm so _tired_ of it, okay?”

“Of what?” Kurt looks at him as if he truly doesn't understand. “I've never seen them push you around like that before! People never -” He breaks off, eyes widening as realization dawns on his face. “Tell me that wasn't about me. Tell me they haven't started picking on you because of me.”

Blaine doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything. His silence apparently tells Kurt all he needs to know, though.

“Blaine, I'm so sorry. I was afraid this would happen.”

“It's not your fault,” Blaine assures him quickly. “It's theirs. I just – It makes me so angry, Kurt. What did we ever do to them? I mean, why do they even care who we – I just don't get it. And it pisses me off, okay?”

“I get that,” Kurt says slowly. “But Blaine, that doesn't mean that we have to stoop to their level, or that we -”

“Have you never wanted to?” Blaine asks, “Not once?”

“Blaine, I -”

“Haven't you ever thought about just landing a punch, just, I don't know, making them understand that they can't treat us this way? Haven't you ever wanted to?”

Kurt looks at him for a long minute, voice quiet when he answers. “...Yes, I have. But, Blaine, that doesn't mean -”

“I've just had enough, you know?” Blaine says, willing Kurt to understand, even though he knows he can't, not really. “I just – these past few days – I just -”

“They would have killed you.”

“I can defend myself. I would have, if you and Sue hadn't stopped me.”

“I don't think you're actually capable of that,” Kurt says, voice careful but sure.

“Of defending myself? Yes, I am!”

“Of beating someone up,” Kurt says. “I don't think you – That's not you, Blaine.”

“You don't really know me that well, Kurt,” Blaine says, feeling so, so tired.

“Yes, I do,” Kurt answers, something in his eyes that Blaine can't read when he looks straight at him. “Or at least I'm starting to.”

“I didn't mean to get in trouble again,” Blaine says. “I really, really didn't.”

Kurt nods, reaching out to take Blaine's hand, squeezing it just briefly before letting go. “Come over after school? I think we should – I don't know. Can we just – do something? Watch a movie?”

Blaine sighs, because now that his anger has been shocked out of him, watching a movie with Kurt actually sounds like a pretty awesome way to spend an afternoon. But - “I can't,” he says. “Grounded again and this time my parents really mean it. Mom is picking me up after school.”

“Oh, I see,” Kurt says, the disappointment that crosses his face almost breaking Blaine's heart.

“But you could still come over to my place,” he says. “Puck is banned, but my mom was very clear on the fact that you're still welcome any time, since. Well. You're going to have to marry me. I think she thinks that you're a good influence on me or whatever.”

Kurt smiles at him, and Blaine almost wishes he'd take his hand again, but shakes that thought off quickly. They're not _that_ kind of friends.

“Do you _want_ me to come over?” Kurt asks.

“Yes,” Blaine answers immediately, and finds he actually really means it. “That would be nice.”

“Okay.” Kurt says, sounding relieved. “Do you want to call your mom and let her know she doesn't have to pick you up? We can take my car.”

“Good idea,” Blaine agrees, and tries not to stare at Kurt too openly while he dials his home number and waits for his mom to pick up.

He has no idea why Kurt is sticking around through all of this. But he's kind of glad that he is.


	13. Thirteen

Blaine's mom finds him in his room once Kurt has gone home that day.

“Blaine?” she asks. “Are you busy? Can we talk?”

She looks upset, and Blaine sits up on his bed, gesturing for her to come inside. “Sure. What's up?”

She sinks into his desk chair, frowning at him. “Coach Sylvester called me and told me that you – were having trouble with some guys at school today.”

Blaine groans, anger rising up inside of him again. “That b- I mean, I can't believe she did that. It was nothing, mom. I didn't do anything. And they started it, I was just -”

“Blaine, stop it.” Her voice has a sharp edge to it, and he shuts up immediately. It's not often that his mom gets really angry at him. “Please tell me what's going on with you, because frankly, I'm running out of ideas here. You've been – so angry, lately. Is this all still about the wedding?”

“I just don't like it, okay?” he snaps. “I don't like the prospect of having my entire life taken from me, I think I have the right to be a little -”

“And who says you're having your life taken from you?” she asks, something cold in her eyes now when she looks at him. “You act like you're being murdered, Blaine. And it's getting a bit old.”

“Well, excuse me for actually giving a fuck about my own future.” He feels cold, rage making his fingers go numb. “This is difficult for me, you know? And I'm trying my best, you don't even see that. None of you do. I'm even going along with Kurt's stupid wedding ideas even if I don't give a _shit_ about any of that and it actually makes me _sick_ to think of celebrating my life-long enslavement, and I still -”

“Have you actually talked to Kurt about that, though?” she wants to know. “Because he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd make you do anything you didn't want to do. Have you tried explaining to him how you feel about any of this?”

“What's the point?” Blaine spits. “It's not going to change anything!”

“Of course it is,” she replies, staring at him, clearly angry now too. “It's going to change everything. And you're clearly not handling things very well now, getting into trouble even more than usual, beating up people and getting drunk with Puck all the time.”

“I didn't beat anyone up,” Blaine clarifies. “And I wasn't really going to.”

“That's not the point,” she says.

“Then what is it?”

“The point, Blaine, is that you act like your life will be over as soon as you marry Kurt.”

“Because that's pretty much what it is, isn't it?” He clenches his hands into fists, heart beating double time as he tries to reign in his feelings. “I'm going to spend my days cooking and cleaning and gossiping over the garden fence. That's not much of a future if you ask me.”

His mom nods slowly, looking down at her folded hands. “What do you think of me, Blaine?”

“What?” He doesn't understand the question.

“Your opinion of me,” she says. “What is it? What do think about my life? Do you think I'm a slave to your father? Do you think my life is worthless because I'm a wife?”

He's shocked. “Mom, no, of course not -”

“Because that's how you're acting right now, you know?” she says. “You act like being a wife is the biggest injustice, the greatest insult that could ever happen to anyone.”

“I didn't mean -”

“And that kind of really hurts my feelings, Blaine.”

Great. Now he's not only doomed to a life of boredom and pointlessness, he's also a giant asshole. “I'm really sorry that you're taking this so hard, mom,” he says. “But it really isn't about you, you know? But thanks for giving me something else to feel like shit about.”

“I don't mean to make you feel worse,” his mom says sincerely. “But you should know how you come across to me right now. Maybe if you stopped focusing on all the ways the world is being unfair to you and actually tried starting to think about your future -”

“I don't _have_ a future,” he yells. “Don't you get it? I can _never_ do what I wanted with my life! They made me the wife because they didn't expect me to ever be able to hold a job. They didn't even care about anything else. No one cares that I'm more than this! I just – why is everything always taken away from me? Why can't I have what I want just _once_?” Suddenly, he feels like crying, and he has to swallow several times to get over that tight feeling in his chest. “It's not fair!”

“Oh, sweetie.” His mom quickly walks over to the bed, drawing him into her arms, and he only resists a little. He feels too weak to put up much of a fight right now.

“I never meant to upset you like this. I was hoping to accomplish the opposite, actually.”

He snorts. “Well done, mom.”

“Blaine, listen,” she says, hugging him closer and rubbing his arm soothingly. “I know you feel like this is the end of the world right now. But I've met Kurt. I honestly think he's not the kind of guy who'll keep you locked up at home and make you give up on all of your dreams, you know?”

“I can never have a career,” he says. “I just – I can't have any of the things I wanted and I just -”

“You can have some things,” she says. “You're such a smart guy. You'll find things for yourself.”

“Like what?”

She draws back, shrugging a little. “That Mr Schuester who runs your glee club, he's a wife. And Ms Pillsbury has no problem letting him come in a few times a week to teach you kids.”

“I don't want to run a glee club in a high school, mom.”

“Then find something else. Be creative. Folding socks and cooking dinner is not all you can do as a wife.”

Blaine sniffs, feeling a little embarrassed about crying. “It's not the same,” he points out. “I know there are things wives can do, but none of those have ever been on my list -”

“Talk it over with Kurt,” she suggests. “I'm certain that he'll be more than willing to meet you half way, okay?”

“He can say yes at first, though, and then he can just take it all away on a whim,” Blaine says. “I will always need him to be okay with it. It's never going to be my choice completely. And I'll still be stuck at home most of the time. And once we have kids -”

“One step at a time, Blainey,” his mom says, pulling him back into a hug and kissing his hair. “Promise me that you'll talk to Kurt.”

“I'll try,” Blaine says, sighing. “And mom?”

“Yes?”

“I'm sorry I was such a jerk to you.”

“I know you are, honey. It's okay. I'm not mad. I just wanted you to know. I understand how hard this is for you. Back when I was your age, we didn't have assignments. Women were wives and men were husbands. Being a girl pretty much sucked from the minute you were born. I can't even imagine growing up not knowing for sure.”

“Yeah, it kind of sucks.”

“You'll get through it. And I'll be here for you every step of the way. And so's your dad. We love you, Blaine, you know that, right?”

He nods against her shoulder. “Love you too, mom.”

**

He sits in his room that night, going over all the wedding things he and Kurt had talked about in his head. The thing is, it doesn't actually sound too bad.

He'd been worried that Kurt would want to go all out with like, flower arrangements and speeches and a professional photographer, the two of them posing for entirely fake, completely stilted wedding pictures.

But actually, what they've settled on now is pretty basic – both of them in suits, signing the papers at city hall, and then having a small reception at a location that has yet to be determined with their families and a few friends each. Blaine really only has Puck to invite, but he guesses he could at least let him bring Quinn along. Kurt has promised to not invite too many people. It's going to be small. There's going to be catered food and a few flowers and things. It's entirely manageable.

He sighs and falls backwards onto his bed. He just can't bring himself to take this away from Kurt. But he knows he should at least voice some of his concerns.

_Come over after school tomorrow?_ he texts Kurt.

He only has to wait a few minutes for a reply. _Sure, see you in class!_

**

“What did you want to talk about?” Kurt asks, taking his usual place on Blaine's bed.

Blaine paces up and down in front of him, hands in his pockets, deciding to cut right to the chase. No need talking around it. “I have some concerns about the wedding. About – everything, really. The whole marriage idea.”

Kurt's eyes widen. “I know, that, Blaine. I'm having many of the same concerns, actually.”

“You don't, though.” Blaine sighs, sitting down next to Kurt. The pacing is actually making him more nervous. “Look, it's just that I – you know how I feel about this. The wife thing.”

“I know you'd rather be -”

“I need you to understand how much I'm not thrilled about the prospect of being stuck at home for the rest of my life.”

“I thought I'd made it clear that -”

“You've said you wouldn't try making my life any harder, Kurt,” Blaine interrupts. He needs to get this out. “But what does that mean specifically? You won't yell at me for burning dinner? Or are you actually cool with letting me do my own thing as much as that's possible for – well, someone like me?”

“What do you mean?” Kurt asks, frowning at him. “Because if you're worried I'm going to lock you up and make you learn to knit sweaters, you have nothing to worry about, Blaine.”

Blaine nods. “That's – part of it, yeah,” he admits. “But, I mean, more generally speaking. I want to do things, Kurt. I'm not really the domestic type. I know I have no choice, I know I'm stuck with this now, and that sucks.”

“I agree, I wish I could -”

“But there's still stuff that I could be doing. Like, my own stuff.”

Kurt bites his lip, apparently thinking this through. “What kind of stuff? You know I can't – there's only so much I can do. You know you can't exactly get a job.”

“No, I don't mean like that,” Blaine says. “There's just – things I might want to be doing. I might want to, like, start a band. Just for fun, because that's all I'm ever going to – that's all I really can do. And maybe it's not even going to be that, I just want to know where we stand on this, I guess. About me doing stuff. You know, because I'm not going to stop wanting things.”

“And I'd never ask you to,” Kurt answers. “I thought you knew that, Blaine.”

Blaine sighs. “You have all the power here,” he says. “And I'm just supposed to be handing it over to you, and I'm supposed to be happy about it.”

“Says who?”

“The world.” Blaine shrugs. “It's just that I am really not comfortable with that.”

“I wish there was something I could do,” Kurt says, quietly.

“But that's exactly my point.” Blaine looks him straight in the eyes, finds Kurt looking back at him with tears in his eyes. “You _can_ do something about it.”

“I can't let you -”

“You can tell me right now that we're going to be partners in this. And even that still sucks for me, because you can change your mind at any time and I'll just have to deal with it. But maybe I could sleep easier for just a few nights.”

“I'll never change my mind about this,” Kurt says, shaking his head emphatically. “Blaine, I don't want to control your life. I can't change the law, but I swear to you that I have no interest in changing you either. Or in making you do things you don't want to.”

“That's already taken care of,” Blaine says. “This whole marriage thing is something I don't want to do.”

“And you think I do?” Kurt asks, hurt.

“No,” Blaine admits. “But you're not the one who has to give up everything.”

“Let's cancel the wedding,” Kurt says.

Blaine feels his eyes widen, jaw dropping. “Uh, what? But I thought – they'll stick me with that forty-five year old stamp collector in -”

“The _wedding_ ,” Kurt repeats. “The _party_. Not the marriage. We have no choice in that. But maybe it was selfish of me to expect you to – We shouldn't have a party celebrating something that essentially takes away your rights. I just. I'm sorry, Blaine. I wasn't thinking. I just really wanted that suit and the flowers and – I'm sorry.” He laughs sadly. “We can just forget about it.”

“No,” Blaine says, surprising even himself. “I mean, the party isn't the problem. And I like parties. I guess I just wanted to make sure you knew how I felt about all of this.”

“I already did know, Blaine.” Kurt reaches out, covering Blaine's hand with his own. “And if we're going to be partners in this, we shouldn't purposefully do things that make each other uncomfortable.”

“The wedding isn't what's making me uncomfortable.”

Kurt gives him a disbelieving look. “Then how come the minute we started talking about it, you started lashing out to the point where you almost got into a physical fight?”

“That wasn't my fault -”

“You've been angry and distant since the day I first mentioned it,” Kurt observes. “I do think it's making you uncomfortable.”

Blaine shakes his head. “I guess all the planning and talking about it just suddenly made it all real, you know? It has nothing to do with the wedding itself. I was just – I panicked.”

“I still don't want to do it if you don't want to.”

Blaine squeezes Kurt's hand in his, smiling. “Kurt, when have I ever done anything I didn't want to be doing?”

Kurt laughs, pulling his hand back and lowering his eyes. “Okay, fine. Then how about this: we forget about the suits and wear whatever we want. Which will probably still be a suit for me, but you can wear swim trunks or jeans or whatever you feel comfortable in. And we have the ceremony at city hall. And then you invite Puck and Quinn and I invite Mercedes and Sam, and we're having the reception in my dad's garage. Or my backyard. Just us, our families, and our closest friends. I'll ask Carole if she'll do the cooking. We'll do the decorating ourselves. Just something fun and informal.”

“You'd do that for me?” Blaine asks. “Because, Kurt, that sounds actually amazing.”

Kurt shrugs. “I need you to know that I mean it when I say we're in this together.”

“And this is something you'd be okay with, too?”

“It may not be the wedding I planned for myself when I was five. But then, none of this is quite what I imagined. I think I like this idea much better than what we were planning before. I don't know. It sounds much more … real.”

Blaine grins, nodding slowly. “Thank you.”

So maybe they haven't solved everything, but Blaine does think he'll be able to sleep better tonight. It feels like a huge weight has been taken off his chest.

Kurt sits up straight, eyeing the Playstation in the corner of Blaine's room. “So, the way I see it, you have now joined glee club for me and you've agreed to indulging my silly idea of a wedding party. Want to take your revenge by teaching me about video games?”

Blaine laughs. “Oh, Kurt, you'd be so bad at it, I don't want you to embarrass yourself.”

Kurt punches him in the arm. “You're just scared I'll be actually better than you.”

“Yeah, no, I'm really not.”

“Come on.” Kurt tugs him forward, pushing him off the bed. “Go get those button-y things -”

“Controllers, Kurt!”

“And teach me! We'll need things to do together, I might as well venture into your territory for once.”

“Oh, you are so going to regret this,” Blaine says, smirking. “I can't wait to see you fail at something.”

“I have no intention of failing, thank you!”

Blaine looks back at him over his shoulder, grinning. “Good. That makes this even more fun.”


	14. Fourteen

It's another Friday. Kurt is sitting in glee club, waiting for everyone else to arrive, when Blaine strolls in and falls into the chair next to him instead of in his usual back corner.

“You appear to be lost,” Kurt teases.

“Nope, I sit here now.” Blaine kicks his backpack under his chair, grinning up at Kurt. “Am I making you nervous?”

Kurt laughs. “Why aren't you hiding away in the back corner today?” he asks. “Too boring?”

“Actually, yeah.” Blaine shrugs. “Speaking of boring – do you have any plans for the weekend? Because I don't.”

“Oh, I see.” Kurt punches his arm. “When everyone else abandons you, I'm suddenly good enough to hang out with.” They hang out every weekend by now, and Blaine takes the teasing the way it was intended, laughing at him loudly.

“I actually talked to my mom and she's letting me leave the house as long as you sign several forms stating that you won't let me out of your sight for one second. Please, Kurt!” He pouts at him. “I'm going crazy with the being grounded, and you're my only hope! You're my ticket to freedom!”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “You are so pathetic. Fine. What do you want to do?”

Blaine grins. “It's a surprise. Pick me up tomorrow at four. And – don't eat anything before.”

“Oh, is your mom making dinner for us?” Kurt asks. He's grown rather fond of Mrs Anderson's cooking over the past weeks.

Blaine wiggles his eyebrows at him. “It's a _surprise_ , Kurt!”

“Fine, be that way,” Kurt sighs. “But I'm informing you right now that I won't be coming along if you're planning on sneaking us into some random sleazy club -”

“We're going clubbing?” Puck asks, walking into the choir room right at that second. “Awesome! But why is Hummel coming along?” He frowns at Blaine. “Didn't think that was his scene.”

“I'm right here,” Kurt mumbles.

“ _Kurt_ and I are hanging out tomorrow,” Blaine informs Puck. “There will be no clubbing.”

“A bar, then? Amusement park?”

“Nope. And you're not invited anyway!”

“Ouch,” Puck says, taking his seat behind Blaine.

“What _are_ we going to do anyway?” Kurt wants to know, trying to give Blaine his most annoyed look. It doesn't seem to be helping.

“You'll find out. Be there at four.”

“Oh, okay.” Kurt sighs and focuses his attention back on the room in general. He still has to find a minute to talk to Mercedes, because the pictures for the flower arrangements for her wedding have basically given him nightmares. It's time for an intervention.

**

He pulls up in front of Blaine's house at exactly four o'clock, and he doesn't even have the time to turn off the ignition before Blaine is running down the gravel path and yanking open the passenger side door.

“Right on time,” he says, beaming at Kurt.

Kurt grins, looking him over quickly. Same jeans, same ratty old jacket, same eyeliner that's smudged around the edges, same wild curls all over the place. And yet Blaine seems to be buzzing with excitement in a way Kurt isn't sure he's ever quite seen before.

“Whatever we're going to do now – is it illegal?” he asks. Blaine's behavior is making him incredibly suspicious.

“Kurt, please!” Blaine huffs out a breath. “I do stupid things, but I would never get you in trouble on purpose.”

“Just had to ask,” Kurt says, pulling out of the driveway. “Okay, where to?”

Blaine buckles his seat belt, gesturing out the side window. “Left here and down the street, then the second on the right.”

Kurt follows Blaine's directions all the way through the city, until Blaine directs him into a parking lot in front of their destination. “Okay, here we are.”

“Blaine.”

“Yes?”

“This is the movie theater.”

“I know!”

“We're going to see a movie?” He looks over at him, confused. “Why didn't you just tell me instead of making me drive all over town?”

Blaine grins at him. “More fun this way. Come on!” And with that, he's out of the car, gesturing for Kurt to follow him.

“I don't even know if I've brought enough money -” Kurt starts, digging through his pockets for his wallet.

“Don't worry,” Blaine says. “My aunt gave me a gift certificate for Christmas last year, I've got you.”

“Blaine, you don't have to pay for me,” Kurt protests, but Blaine just grabs his arms, pulling him along and into the building.

Kurt sighs and just lets him.

**

“So, that was fun,” Kurt says. “Should I drop you off at home, then?”

Blaine gives him a reprimanding look. “I did promise you dinner, didn't I?”

“Uh, yes.” Kurt shakes his head, still a bit confused with Blaine's exuberant behavior. He'd kept bouncing in his seat all during the movie, and Kurt had felt him looking at him more than once. But every time he'd turned his head to ask Blaine what was going on, he had quickly looked away and focused back on the screen.

“So, let's go have dinner,” Blaine says, getting in the car as soon as Kurt unlocks the doors.

“Your place?”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Take a right and then all the way down the street until -”

“Oh, not this again.”

“Come on, Kurt, just play along.”

“Fine!”

**

“We're at Breadstix,” Kurt says, staring out of the windshield. “This is Breadstix.”

“How very observant of you.”

“Blaine, why are we eating at Breadstix?”

Blaine shrugs. “Because I want to?”

“Okay...” Kurt gets out of the car, following behind Blaine as they make their way across the parking lot. He tries not to frown too obviously when Blaine jumps ahead to open the door for Kurt, nearly smacking him in the face with it. “What's going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Blaine hurries to assure him. “I just really want – bread sticks!”

Kurt gives up trying to understand anything and just lets Blaine lead him to an empty booth.

“If your mom didn't want to cook tonight, we could have just gone to my place,” Kurt says. “Carole always makes too much because Finn eats enough for three people. I hope that changes when he finally stops growing.”

“Oh, no, I just -”Blaine shrugs, sliding onto the bench. “I just wanted to come here. Is that a problem?”

Kurt shakes his head. “My place would just have been cheaper, is all.”

Blaine dismisses the argument with a wave of his hand. “Whatever, I'm paying. Get whatever you want. Actually -” he takes a look over his shoulder, obviously searching for something. “Ah, there she is. The waitress here knows me,” he explains. “We can get beer if we want. Do you want a beer?”

“I'm driving,” Kurt answers lamely, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “And you're not paying for me, I can -”

“Kurt, I made you come here with me. Yes, I am paying.”

“Why are you being so weird?” Kurt wants to know. They've hung out countless times by now, and it has always been the same – watching movies in his or Blaine's room, playing video games, sitting on Blaine's garden wall and talking about books or music or their friends or one of the many dumb things Blaine still tends to do on occasion. It's never been like this. They have never done _this_ before. _This_ is – weird.

“I'm not being weird,” Blaine answers. “Am I being weird? I don't mean to. I guess I'm just – in a good mood?”

“That's – nice,” Kurt says. “I'm glad that you're having a good time.”

“Are you having a good time?” Blaine asks, propping his chin on his hands and giving Kurt a look from under his thick lashes.

“I guess so.” Kurt shrugs. “I'm a bit surprised, that's all.”

Blaine nods. “That's okay. This is new. I get it. I just thought we could try something new for once. See if it works.”

“See if what works?”

“Just … new stuff.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They talk all through dinner, and Blaine is more like himself at last, even though Kurt still occasionally finds him smiling at him across the table with a far away expression on his face. He can't shake the feeling that he's still in for a surprise. He just hopes it's nothing that can get them in trouble.

Blaine does pay once they've eaten their food, and Kurt doesn't argue anymore. It's true after all that Blaine was the one who made him come here. And he can just pay the next time they do this. Whatever _this_ is.

It's dark by the time he drives Blaine home. He's prepared to say goodbye in the car and drive off, but Blaine just turns toward him in his seat and gives him another one of those strange looks. “I kind of feel like walking,” he says. “Do you feel like walking?”

“I don't know,” Kurt admits. “Where would we walk to?”

Blaine lifts his shoulders. “Nowhere really. I just want to walk. I think I ate too much or something. I don't know. I just thought it might be fun.”

Kurt thinks about it. It's actually nice out today and he has been doing an awful lot of sitting this week what with classes and homework and everything. “Maybe a walk doesn't sound like such a bad idea,” he concedes. “Okay. Let's walk for a bit. But no stealing people's lawn furniture, okay?”

Blaine lifts both hands defensively. “I promised you I wouldn't get you into trouble, didn't I?”

Kurt bites his lip. “Fine. Come on, then.”

Blaine leads them down the block and around a corner and towards a playground, walking so close to Kurt their shoulders occasionally bump together. Which is very strange again, because the sidewalk is really wide here.

“Oh, hey, I have an idea,” he says, when they reach the edge of the playground, grabbing Kurt's hand and pulling him with him.

Kurt feels like he's being pulled around a lot today. “Blaine, what are you doing?”

“I know a place, come on,” is all Blaine says, steering them toward a structure in the far corner that turns out to be a wooden castle after some observation, complete with a slide and ropes for climbing and ladders placed strategically around it.

“You want me to climb up there?” Kurt asks incredulously, looking down at his very expensive, very beautiful pants. “Are you serious?”

“Yup,” Blaine says. “Come on, it's fun!”

Kurt sighs and chooses a ladder that looks at least mildly trustworthy, following Blaine up onto the platform. But Blaine doesn't stop there, instead hops onto the small railing to pull himself up onto the roof.

“Yeah, and this is where I leave you,” he says, looking up at Blaine, who pouts down at him.

“Aw, Kurt, come on, it's nice up here!”

Kurt throws up his hands in frustration, rolling his eyes. “Fine!”

Blaine offers him a hand, but Kurt knows how to climb, thank you very much. Within seconds, he's pulled himself gracefully up onto the roof, sitting down next to Blaine, staring at him expectantly. “Okay, here I am. What's next?”

“Lie down,” Blaine directs him, lowering himself until he's flat on his back, tugging at Kurt's arm to do the same. “Come on, just do it!”

Kurt gives up and stretches himself out on his back next to Blaine. “What are we doing?”

“Look,” Blaine says, pointing upwards. “Just look, Kurt.”

Kurt looks, not sure what he's supposed to be looking _at_. “It's dark.”

“Except for the stars.”

“Oh.”

“There are so many,” Blaine says, voice sounding almost awed. “Sometimes I like to just – look up, you know?”

Kurt nods, trying to forget about the fact that he's lying on a dirty roof of a rotting playground castle with a boy who steals garden gnomes for fun and spends more time in detention than in class. “They are – sort of pretty,” he admits. And they are, indeed. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. He hardly ever takes the time to just look up anymore.

“I used to come here a lot,” Blaine says, voice low and almost pensive. “I almost forgot this place was even here.”

“I like it,” Kurt admits, and judging by the way Blaine smiles at him when they briefly turn their heads to look at each other, it was the right thing to say.

**

He stops next to his car once they're back in Blaine's driveway, smiling at him in the soft light of the street lamps. “That was fun. Thank you.”

“I'm glad,” Blaine says. “Listen, do you want to come in for a bit? I could make you a cup of coffee?”

Kurt shakes his head. “Thanks, but I should probably get going.”

Blaine nods, giving him that weird look again. “Okay. Yes. Absolutely. Anyway, I had a good time tonight, Kurt.”

“Me too, we should -” Kurt's eyes widen and he stares at Blaine, at Blaine's smile, that crinkle in the corner of his eyes, and he thinks … a movie. Dinner. A walk. Star gazing. An invitation or coffee.

Oh, shit.

“Blaine?” he says, quietly.

“Yes?” And Blaine is standing closer than he usually does, and he hasn't done one single stupid thing all night, and he's been _paying_ for Kurt at the movies and at Breadstix and … Kurt feels so stupid.

“Blaine, was this a date?”

Blaine blushes for a second, staring down at his shoes. Then his head whips up and there's the old Blaine again. “What? Why would you – We're not dating Kurt!” He laughs. “Why do you ask that?”

“Because this kind of feels like a date,” Kurt says. “Not that I would know, seeing as how I've never been on one before.”

“This was your first date?” Blaine asks, then bites his lip quickly, squeezing his eyes shut for a second as he realizes what he just said. “Fuck. Dammit.”

Kurt feels his eyes widen. “Oh my god. It _was_ a date!”

Blaine blinks up at him, almost shyly. “No,” he admits. “Not really. I mean, I've thought about it. You know, how much easier this would be if we – But it doesn't have to be. _We_ don't have to be anything. I guess I just wanted to know what it would be like. If that makes sense.”

Kurt smiles at him. He doesn't really know how to react to this piece of information, but he's surprised to find that he wouldn't exactly have minded if this had been a date. “It makes perfect sense,” he says. “And for the record? It was pretty much exactly what I would have wanted my first date to be like. If this had been one.”

Blaine grins. “It was pretty awesome, wasn't it?”

“Yeah,” Kurt breathes, overcome with the sudden wish of drawing the night out just a little bit longer. “Yeah, it was.”

“So, on a scale of one to ten -”

“No, I'm not rating it, Blaine,” he protests. “That's weird.”

“I guess you're right.” Blaine shrugs. “You're not completely weirded out now, right? Like, you're not going to appeal our impending marriage on the grounds of me being kind of an idiot?”

Kurt laughs. “No, don't worry. I just – does that offer for coffee still stand? Let's end our non-date the right way.”

Blaine's face lights up at that. “Yes! Absolutely!”

“Can I push the button?” Kurt asks, grinning.

Blaine tilts his head to the side, giving Kurt a thoughtful glance. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“We're calling this a real date. You know, you should have dated before you get married. I'm sorry it's only me, but -”

“Blaine,” Kurt interrupts, sternly.

“What?”

“Two things.”

“I'm listening.”

“One,” Kurt says, “I accept your condition. Just – warn me next time, okay?”

“Next time?”

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.”

“What's two?”

Kurt holds his breath for a second. This is so impulsive and so stupid and so scary, but he just – wants to. He's already been on a date tonight. Time to try new things. “Two,” he says, “I'm going to hug you now. If that's okay.”

Blaine's smile is bright, if a little shocked. “I have no problem with that.”

“Good,” Kurt says, and then Blaine's arms are encircling his waist, his face pressing against Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt gets a mouthful of curls before he can turn his own head to the side and rest his cheek against Blaine's hair. He wraps his arms around Blaine's shoulders and – feels content.

Things may not be perfect. They may not be actually dating. But, Kurt thinks, at least they're comfortable enough around each other to have gotten to this point. Just a few weeks ago, he wouldn't have thought it possible. That's worth something.


	15. Fifteen

Kurt leaves just in time to make it home for his curfew and Blaine walks him to his car. Because if this was actually a date – a _test_ date – they can at the very least see it through until the end.

Blaine still isn't quite sure what it was that had possessed him to do this, but he doesn't regret it. It has been fun.

They don't hug again before Kurt gets in his car, even though there's sort of a tense moment when Kurt just stands there next to the driver's side door, car keys in hand and a small frown on his face as if he's not sure what to do.

“So, this was nice,” Kurt says.

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees.

Kurt looks away, grinning, shaking his head a little. “I have to admit, I never thought that the person eventually taking me out on my first date would be you, Blaine Anderson.”

“I just kind of wanted to,” Blaine says.

“I'm glad you did.”

“I just thought that, you know, even if this is sort of in the wrong order, we should have dated before we get married.”

“I was a little bit upset to have missed out on that particular experience,” Kurt admits. “So … thanks for giving me that. Now I can say that I've dated.” He smiles.

A brief flash of panic shoots through Blaine's mind and the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. “You don't expect this to become a regular thing, though, right? I mean, I just wanted to know what it was like, but -”

Kurt laughs, looking at Blaine as if he can't believe he's real. “Oh no, don't worry. I get it, Blaine. And I appreciate what you did tonight, and I promise that I won't expect more nights like this in the future. In a way, it makes this even more special, don't you think?”

Blaine nods, relieved, and takes a step back, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Goodnight, Kurt,” he says.

Kurt's smile is warm and almost happy. “Goodnight, Blaine.”

Blaine stands in his driveway and watches Kurt drive off into the night.

**

To his continued relief, things between him and Kurt don't change much over the course of the following weeks. They keep hanging out on a regular basis, even if Blaine can tell that Puck is a little annoyed at being left on his own so many times. So he makes a point of making time for him whenever he can, hanging out to play video games (at Puck's, whenever Blaine can sneak away, Puck is still not welcome in his house), or hanging out behind the Lima Bean and spray painting trash cans.

He has no idea if Kurt knows what he and Puck are doing when they hang out; Blaine certainly never tells him. Still, he thinks he can sometimes see it in Kurt's eyes when he looks at him weird at school the next morning after Blaine and Puck had dumped food coloring into the school swimming pool, turning the water a pretty shade of pink (and Blaine hadn't even dared to ask where Puck had got the food coloring from) or after they had sneaked out to TP principal Figgins' house.

Kurt never says anything about it, though, so Blaine thinks he must either be okay with it or really just doesn't know.

Weeks pass and graduation looms closer, and as much as Blaine still fears everything that lies ahead for him once high school is over, a part of him (a very big part, if he's being honest) cannot wait to see it end. Finally.

Things between him and Kurt are okay. Better than okay, if he's being honest. His impulsive decision to take Kurt out on a date hasn't managed to ruin anything between them, on the contrary, it seems like it has actually helped them be more comfortable around each other. It's like a threat has been removed, and Blaine hadn't even known how much he'd felt the pressure to act like any normal couple. Now that they've established that they're comfortable around each other, they can finally just hang out without it meaning more than just hanging out.

And he likes hanging out with Kurt.

**

They're at Kurt's, sitting in his bedroom, on Kurt's bed (Blaine is still grounded, technically, but his parents have agreed to make an exception when he's hanging out at Kurt's) with Blaine reading _The Restaurant at the End of the Universe_ and Kurt sewing a button onto a jacket, when Kurt says, just casually, “Mercedes asked if we want to see a movie with her and Sam on Saturday.”

Blaine looks up from his book, thinking about it for a moment. “Did she say what movie?”

Kurt shrugs. “No, which probably means you can still make suggestions. Any ideas?”

Blaine shakes his head. “I don't even know what they're showing right now.”

“But is that a yes to the general idea?” Kurt looks up at him quickly while he keeps sewing. “I'd like to text her back before tonight.”

“Yeah, okay, why not.” Blaine lifts his shoulders, goes back to reading. He kind of likes Mercedes. And Sam is okay too. And he knows for a fact that Puck will have to spend the weekend with Quinn, so hanging out with Kurt's friends seems like the best thing to do unless he wants to sit at home, bored out of his mind.

“Great.” Kurt sounds very pleased. “Sam will be glad to hear that. I think Mercedes is actually worried that he's going to try and elope with you one of these days.”

Blaine lifts his head again, frowning. “We're not even friends.”

Kurt laughs. “Well, I think maybe you should be. I think you could use a friend like Sam.”

And Blaine drops his book, stunned into silence for a moment. “What the hell is that even supposed to mean?”

Kurt gives him a confused look. “Nothing. What? I just -”

“I have friends, Kurt!”

“You have Puck,” Kurt corrects. “He's hardly a very good influence on you.”

Blaine snorts. “Okay. First of all, you do not get to pick my friends for me.”

“Blaine, I wasn't -”

“And second of all, who says it's Puck who is the bad influence? Maybe I'm the one who's a bad influence on Puck!”

“You know that's not -”

“You said -” Blaine shakes his head, anger bubbling up quickly in his chest. “All that stuff you said about not making my life harder. And yet you think it's a good idea to pick my friends for me? I can't believe you!”

“I thought you liked Sam!” Kurt throws up his hands in frustration. “I wasn't trying to -”

“You were trying to fit me into your world, with your friends, without any regard for what I might want. You act like you're okay with – with all of this, and then you just.” He slides off the bed, grabbing for his book angrily. “You do not get to decide who I'm friends with. Have fun hanging out with Sam and Mercedes tomorrow, but I'm not coming with you. I don't need this.”

“Blaine -” Kurt looks up at him, eyes wide, looking sort of startled.

“I'm out of here,” Blaine says, striding for the door.

“Where are you going?” Kurt asks, voice a little desperate.

Blaine looks back at him over his shoulder, feeling cold with rage. “I'm going to find new friends, since you think I don't have enough. Maybe I'll try the local prison. Or some seedy bar. Because that's my usual kind of scene, isn't it, Kurt?”

“Blaine, wait, _Blaine_ ,” Kurt calls after him, but Blaine just stomps down the stairs, slamming the front door shut behind himself.

Outside, he just stands for a minute, breathing hard, clenching and unclenching his fists to calm down a little. He remembers he's here without a car – they came here in Kurt's car after school. Well. He's used to walking by now. At least this way his mom won't ask stupid questions about why he's home so early.

**

Kurt wakes late the next morning; he'd been up half the night trying to figure out whether or not he should call Blaine and … apologize? He's not quite sure what he'd be apologizing for, even, but Blaine had clearly been very upset. Kurt sighs and rolls over in his bed, squinting at the light of the late morning. He hadn't meant to upset Blaine. All he had wanted to do was have a nice Saturday with three of his best friends, and yes, he would kind of like for Sam and Blaine to be friends too.

But not because he wants to dictate Blaine's life choices, he actually doesn't want Blaine to change, he doesn't want him to be friends with Sam so that Sam's 'normal' will rub off in him. What is normal anyway? All Kurt wants is for Blaine to not be alone when they move away, and if everything works out the way they planned, he and Mercedes will attend college together. And even if it doesn't work out, Sam is dorky and weird in almost the same way Blaine is; Kurt has seen some of the movies that Sam likes to quote in Blaine's DVD collection, Blaine laughs at Sam's impressions, they're both into video games – and Kurt knows that Sam likes Blaine. Yes, he does think they could be friends. But he certainly doesn't want that for any of the reasons Blaine had automatically assumed.

He hadn't tried calling Blaine, in the end, instead had decided to give him some space. He'll go over there today, make sure they're okay. God, he hopes they're okay. He never knows what the wrong thing to say to Blaine is. He thinks he's getting better at it, but sometimes Blaine still just – overwhelms him. Confuses him. Blaine might not be quite the mystery to Kurt he thinks he is, but sometimes he doesn't get him anyway.

With another sigh, Kurt rolls over and gets out of bed, heading for the shower. Better get this day started, since it looks like he has some apologizing for whatever-it-was-that-he-did to do today.

His dad is in the kitchen reading the paper when Kurt comes in to fix himself some breakfast. He can hear Carole talking on the phone in the living room, and since it's after ten already, Finn will probably be outside somewhere hanging out with one of his friends. He has lots of friends.

“You got a letter,” his dad says, looking up as soon as Kurt enters the kitchen, pushing an envelope across the table toward him.

Kurt's breath stops for a second as he picks it up and looks at it. “It's from Tisch,” he whispers. “Oh my god, oh my god -”

“I know.” His dad folds the newspaper, puts it away, looking almost as nervous as Kurt feels. “If you hadn't been down here in half an hour, I would have come up to wake you or open the damn thing myself.”

Kurt laughs, loud and nervous, hands feeling cold and clammy. It's his dream school...

“Well, aren't you going to open it?” His dad leans forward in his chair, hands clasped together on the table top. “Remember my heart condition, this is killing me -”

Kurt grins as some of the tension drops right out of him and rolls his eyes, but his fingers are still shaking when he opens the envelope, slides out the letter. “I have an audition.” His voice is barely above a whisper and he feels lightheaded. “Dad, they invited me to audition, they want me to audition, I might just get in -”

His dad is already out of his chair, hugging him tight before Kurt can even choke out the laugh that's bubbling up in his throat. It's his _dream school_...

“I have to tell Blaine,” he says. “I have to – oh god, I have to tell Blaine.” He knows he has to. Blaine has a right to know this. More than that, Kurt promised him that if Blaine didn't want to go somewhere then they wouldn't go. But it's the only school Kurt wants to go to, he'd give almost anything to be able to go there.

“You think he won't be okay with it?” his dad asks, pulling back from the hug but keeping his hands on Kurt's shoulders.

“I don't know,” Kurt admits. “I know we should have talked about this sooner, but -”

“It's gonna be okay, buddy.” And when his dad says it, Kurt almost always can believe it. “I'm sure it's gonna be fine. And whatever happens, I'm so damn proud of you, you know that?”

“I know, dad.” Kurt nods, happy tears stinging behind his eyes. “I know. Thank you!”

Now he just has to hope that Blaine likes New York. And that they're actually still on speaking terms after whatever weird thing happened in his room yesterday.


	16. Sixteen

Blaine is sitting on the porch outside, hunched over on the steps with a book in his hand when Kurt arrives at his house. Blaine usually has a book in his hands when he isn't stealing gnomes or puncturing people's tires.

Kurt watches him sit there reading peacefully, hesitates for just a second, but then Blaine looks up, keeping his eyes fixed on Kurt's car. And Kurt sighs, unbuckling his seat belt. Better to just get this over with.

He keeps the letter clutched tightly in his hand as he walks the few steps over to where Blaine is sitting up, quiet and not greeting him. “Hi,” he tries. He hates not knowing where they stand. It bothers him more than it probably should. He's not used to having fights with people. If what happened between them can even be counted as a fight, considering how quickly it was over.

“Hi,” Blaine replies, face unreadable.

“Um, what are you reading?” Kurt asks, thinking books must be a safe topic to begin with, and he doesn't just want to open with his big news, he doesn't want Blaine to think that he just came over here out of some sense of obligation.

Blaine holds up the book, showing Kurt the cover of _Summer Lightning_. “Re-reading, actually,” he says. “I love P.G. Wodehouse.”

“Never read it,” Kurt answers.

“You should, I have some more upstairs,” Blaine offers. “Seriously, try a book sometimes, don't those magazines get boring after a while? Or do you just like looking at the pictures?”

“I do read books,” Kurt protests. “Just not as many as you. No one ever reads as many books as you do.”

Blaine shrugs. “ _You_ certainly don't.”

Kurt chooses to ignore that last comment, instead takes another step closer. He doesn't want to fight with Blaine _again_. “Anyway,” he starts, sitting down on the steps next to Blaine, staring down at the letter in his hand. “I actually have something I wanted to tell you. Ask you. Well, discuss with you.”

“Oh, okay.” Blaine puts the book down, leaning back on his hands. “Sounds serious.”

“It kind of is.” Kurt draws a deep breath, then holds out the letter to Blaine. “From college,” he says. “Tisch. In New York.”

“Yes, thank you, I know where it is.” Blaine reaches over, taking the letter from Kurt's outstretched hand to unfold it and read it over. “Wow. That's ...”

Kurt lifts his shoulders a little, not sure what to do with his hands now that he's no longer holding the letter. “I just -”

“Great school,” Blaine says. “I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun going there.”

“I didn't come here to gloat, if that's what you think,” Kurt assures him, picking up on the slightly sarcastic tone in Blaine's voice. “It's just that we said – I promised you I'd talk to you before making a decision.”

“You did,” Blaine confirms, face passive.

“So.” Kurt sits up a little straighter, meeting Blaine's eyes nervously. “Here I am. Talking to you.”

Blaine hands him the letter back, runs a hand through his messy hair. Kurt notices that he isn't wearing eyeliner. “What do you want me to say, Kurt?” he asks. “Congratulations.”

“I haven't even been accepted yet, I still need to audition,” Kurt reminds him. “But would that be – I don't want to go to all the trouble of picking an audition song and practicing for weeks if New York is off the table anyway.”

Blaine shakes his head. “That's – New York is fine. I guess.” He bites his lip, stares down at his knees. “I just – Please understand if that's all the enthusiasm I can manage for this. You know I -”

“I know this is hard for you,” Kurt hastens to tell him. “And I'm sorry. But -”

“Thanks for mentioning it, though, I guess.” Blaine shrugs. “I mean after yesterday – I have to admit I wasn't sure anymore.”

Kurt feels both his eyebrows shoot up with surprise. “Why?”

Blaine looks at him like he's stupid. “We had a fight. Remember when we had a fight? In your bedroom? Yesterday? That's the day before today -”

“Yes, thank you, I remember.” Kurt opens and closes his mouth a few times, not sure what to say to that. “I thought you were mad at _me_. Am I supposed to be mad at you? Were we even having the same fight?”

Blaine laughs. “Kurt, you made it pretty clear what you think of my social skills, and in response I kind of stormed out like a five-year old. That was really mature and probably did everything to convince you that I'm not a complete loser.”

Kurt feels the shame deep in his gut, blushing with the memory of what he'd said to Blaine, how he must have sounded to him. “Blaine, I'm so, so sorry about that! Please believe me. I was being completely insensitive, I've been worried about it all night, I just -”

“You were right though,” Blaine says. “I don't really have any friends.”

“I was _not_ right,” Kurt insists. “And I shouldn't have said that. I _swear_ I didn't mean it like that! You never have to see Sam or anyone else ever again for all I care. Not if you don't want to.”

Blaine sighs. “You know, the minute I was turning the corner down the street from your house I knew that that wasn't what you'd meant.”

“Oh.”

“I still didn't like – I think you could have worded it a little better, you know?” He just glances over quickly once before his face goes dark again. “I mean, what was I supposed to think? But still.” He looks up again, eyes serious. “I'm sorry for not letting you explain. I guess we can't just run out on each other every time one of us says something stupid.”

Kurt frowns. “Actually, I don't see why not. Maybe running out and cooling off is better than yelling at each other? At least now we can talk about it in a civilized manner. And I can tell you honestly that I really didn't mean to insult you.”

Blaine keeps his eyes locked on Kurt's face for a long minute. “Okay,” he says finally. “And I'm still sorry for getting mad like that. I don't always have the best impulse control. Which you know already.”

Kurt breathes out a little laugh, more embarrassed than anything else. “ _You_ have nothing to apologize for. And anyway, it was just a fight, Blaine, that doesn't mean I suddenly start treating you like a 1950s housewife with no rights of her own.”

Blaine offers him a small smile, then turns his head away, brow furrowing as his fingers pick at the ends of his sleeves. “I just keep – I was angry,” he explains. “I get angry sometimes.”

Kurt takes a moment to just look at him, Blaine sitting there with his unruly hair and his faded shirt and those ridiculous ripped jeans, staring at his knees and very pointedly not looking up as if he's expecting – what? “Blaine,” he says, quietly, and when Blaine still doesn't look up, reaches over to take one of his hands in his own. “I get angry too, sometimes,” he tells him. “And I get mean. I can get _really_ mean. I'm not proud of it. And sometimes, I don't think about what I'm saying. Like yesterday. I shouldn't have -”

“No, you shouldn't,” Blaine says. “But you're not the one who stormed out.”

“Because it was my room,” Kurt reminds him. “But anyway, you're allowed to be angry at me when I'm being an idiot and it doesn't mean I'll suddenly treat you differently or break my promises to you. We both have a lot to learn still, I guess.” He smiles. “For better or for worse, right?”

Blaine snorts, squeezes Kurt's hand back briefly before letting go. “Yeah. Okay. Sounds good.”

“And we don't have to hang out with Sam and Mercedes anymore, if you don't want to. I mean, I'm still going to, they're my best friends. But you don't have to tag along if you don't want. It's not like I ever hang out with you and Puck. We don't have to have the same friends. Maybe that was a stupid idea anyway.”

“Thanks,” Blaine says, and sounds like he means it. “That's – okay. Yeah. That works for me. And you wouldn't want to hang out with Puck and me anyway, I don't think that you -”

“Don't even tell me what you get up to when you're on your own,” Kurt interrupts. “I think I may be better off not knowing.”

“Totally possible.” Blaine bumps their shoulders together, grinning.

“You're still welcome to join us, though, if you want to,” Kurt clarifies. “I'm not saying I don't want you there. I'm just saying that if I ever made you feel like it wasn't your decision, or like it was something I expected of you, I'm sorry. I never meant it to come across that way.”

“Apology accepted.” Blaine actually smiles a little, and it makes Kurt's stomach warm pleasantly. Blaine has a nice smile.

“I just thought you and Sam would get along, that is all,” he says, just wanting to explain. “I know he likes you. That's the only reason I suggested it. I swear I wasn't trying to pick out new friends for you.”

Blaine laughs. “That's nice, Kurt. But trust me. He doesn't like me.”

Kurt lifts his head, confused. “What? Of course he does! You two joke around all the time in glee club and Mercedes said -”

“Kurt,” Blaine interrupts. “You know me. You know what I'm _like_. You know how people stay away from me as if I'm just going to get them into trouble if they come near me. People don't like me. They might find me entertaining for a while, but I'm not – the sort of person who's _liked_.”

Kurt feels the words like a punch, and he just wants to reach out and touch Blaine again. He had no idea... “That's not true, Blaine, and you know it,” he says. “There are plenty of people who like you.”

“People are afraid of me,” Blaine insists. “They think I'm weird. And I prefer it that way, at least I can walk down the hallways at school without being bothered. But it doesn't change the fact that -”

“Puck likes you,” Kurt points out. “Aren't you his best friend?”

Blaine snorts. “How many other options does he have?”

“But your parents -” Kurt swallows. “They love you! I know they do!”

“Yeah, well, they're my family.” Blaine rolls his eyes, annoyed. “They don't get much of a choice. They're kind of stuck with me.”

“ _I_ like you,” Kurt says, quietly.

Blaine shakes his head, not even looking at him. “You're stuck with me too. Don't even pretend you wouldn't prefer it to be someone else. I can't be your dream wife. You have no choice either.”

“I do, though,” Kurt says. “I do have a choice. And I do like you, Blaine. You're … Okay, three months ago, I wouldn't have picked you, if it had been up to me.”

“I wouldn't have picked you either,” Blaine hurries to throw in, and Kurt laughs.

“I know that. Believe me, I'm very well aware of that. But don't you think that this is – going well, sort of?”

“What, you suddenly want to start dating?” Blaine leans over a little, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “You suddenly have a thing for bad boys, Hummel?”

Kurt punches his arm, rolling his eyes. “Shut up. Asshole. I didn't mean it like that.” He shakes his head, unable to keep the smile in. “But I really do like you. I like how you're just … _you_ , you know? I like how you can wear eyeliner and spray paint public property and still have a DVD collection made up mostly of musicals and Disney. I like that we're friends now. And there are other things. You don't have to believe me. Even though it would be kind of awesome if you did. But we _are_ friends, aren't we? I make a point of only being friends with people I actually like.”

Blaine looks away and Kurt can't see his face. But when he turns back around and meets his eyes again, there's something a lot gentler behind the expression on his face. “Just so you know,” he says. “I actually don't believe you. But thanks anyway.”

“I'll keep hanging out with you until you do,” Kurt promises him. “You're not getting rid of me now. I'm going to make you believe me. I'm stubborn like that.”

Blaine laughs, then gets up, grabbing his book. “Okay. Good luck with that. And now that you're here, would you mind giving me a lift to the mall? I need new guitar strings.”

Kurt glances at the closed front door of Blaine's house. “Won't your parents mind? You're still grounded, after all.”

Blaine jumps up the stairs, fishing the key out of his pocket. “They won't mind as long as you come along. They're all for the two of us hanging out.”

Kurt nods. “Okay. But I'm coming inside and saying hello first. It can't hurt to be on their good side.”

Blaine rolls his eyes at him. “I think you already are. You're like the son they always wanted. Instead, they got me.”

“Blaine they _love_ you,” Kurt reminds him, even though he's almost a hundred percent sure that Blaine is joking anyway.

“Well, come on, then,” Blaine hurries him along, “If we leave now we can still go for ice cream before we have to meet Sam and Mercedes.”

Kurt feels his face light up at Blaine's words. “You're still coming along this afternoon?”

Blaine unlocks the door, making a pointedly disinterested face. “Yeah, whatever. It's not like I have anything better to do anyway. And at least you'll be there and you _like_ me. Right?” He grins up at Kurt from under his thick lashes, face all innocent but something sparkling behind his eyes.

Kurt punches him again playfully, grinning. “You're such a jerk. I don't know why I ever said that.”

“Careful, or I'll ask Sam to marry me.” Blaine has unlocked the door and lets Kurt step through in front of him. “I have it on good authority that he likes me too.”

“I'm never saying anything nice to you ever again,” Kurt threatens.

Blaine just laughs and pushes the door closed behind them.


	17. Seventeen

Kurt has just taken his seat in class the next day, when Blaine walks into the room and takes the seat next to his.

“Hi,” he greets.

Kurt stares at him. “You're here.”

Blaine shrugs. “Why wouldn't I be?”

Kurt bites his lip, unsure of what to say.

“You have to stop worrying about me, Kurt,” Blaine says. “I'm fine.”

Kurt is absolutely certain at this point in their weird friendship that he'll pretty much be worrying about Blaine in one way or another for the rest of his life. But for now, he just nods and changes the subject.

Blaine shows up to all of the classes he and Kurt have together that day, and the next day too. He reads under the table or stares out the window, sometimes scribbles things in a notebook that looks as battered as his clothes. But he's there, and somehow always manages to pay enough attention to have something smart to say whenever he's being called on. Kurt literally has no idea how he does it.

And the next day, Blaine is there again. He even goes to glee club, which he's been missing only a few times so far, and usually only on Tuesdays. Kurt assumes there must be something especially good on television that day.

Friday after school, they say goodbye in the parking lot. Kurt sort of knows that Blaine won't be coming to dinner this Friday, and he doesn't push. They'll probably meet up at some point this weekend, because it's what they usually do. Even if most times all they do is hang out in the same room while Blaine reads or plays guitar and Kurt works on his homework or a glee club assignment or one of his various crafts projects. But, they have both agreed, spending time together now when they both still have the chance to leave when it gets to be too much should be good practice for eventually living together. And more and more often, they end up talking instead, or watching a movie, or even playing video games, which, Kurt has to admit, is more fun than he ever thought it would be.

When Kurt wakes up on Saturday, it's just a little after eight and he takes his time with his morning routine. He doesn't really have any plans for today and with the school year almost over, homework isn't really a concern anymore. Everything's pretty much done at this point, the last two weeks are more for saying goodbye than anything else.

It's almost nine when he comes down to fix some breakfast for himself – his dad is probably at the shop, Carole uses her Saturday mornings to volunteer at the local hospital for just a few hours, and Finn is at a sleepover with one of his friends. So it's just him in the house for once.

He walks through the living room on his way to the kitchen, throwing an absentminded glance outside as he passes the window.

And stops, freezes for a second, then turns back to look again.

There's a black Prius parked in his driveway, the same black Prius he'd seen in Blaine's garage all those weeks ago. And sitting next to it on the ground is Blaine, back leaning against the passenger side door. He's staring off into the distance, sipping something from a bright red travel mug.

In a few strides, Kurt is at the front door, pulling it open to step out onto the porch. “Blaine?”

Blaine looks up at him, grinning brightly when he notices him. “Kurt! Hey. You're up. Finally.”

“How long have you been out here?”

Blaine looks up at the sky as if he's reading the time from the position of the sun. “About a half hour or so?”

“I'm sorry, but -” Kurt racks his brain, but there's nothing. “Did we have plans today?”

Blaine shakes his head. “Nope.”

“You have your car,” Kurt says, brightly, then a thought occurs to him. “Did you steal your own car? From your parents' garage?”

Blaine laughs. “No, oh my god. Don't worry. They know I'm driving it and they're okay with it. I think mom feels sorry for me. And something you said to my dad about having it just sitting there without being used must have stuck. He was very clear about the fact that he wants me to drive it again.”

“That's wonderful, Blaine,” Kurt says. “Why are you here, though?”

Blaine gets up off the ground, dusting off his jeans. “No reason. Well. That's not true. Hold on.” He opens his car door and gets out a second travel mug, this one dark blue. “I brought you coffee!”

Kurt blinks at him, confused. “I'm at my house. I have coffee at my house.”

Blaine lifts his eyebrows at him. “Yes, I know. But this one is from the magic coffee maker you love so much. Made fresh for you this very morning. Don't worry about the temperature, those mugs are amazing. It's still hot.”

Kurt grins, walking down the steps to take the mug from Blaine's outstretched hand. “Thank you! Do you want to come in? I was just going to make breakfast.”

“I don't know.” Blaine lifts his shoulders, fiddles with his own mug. “I was just going to drive around a bit.”

“No one's home,” Kurt tells him. “It's boring. Please have breakfast with me?”

“Fine,” Blaine relents and follows Kurt into the house.

**

In all honesty, Blaine doesn't really have the faintest idea why he came here, or why he felt like sitting in Kurt's driveway for half an hour had been a good idea. He just didn't know where else to go. Puck is with Quinn today and he'd already been preparing himself for the most boring Saturday since the invention of Saturdays. Except then his dad had taken him aside to tell him it was time he got his car keys back. And had then searched for those keys that Blaine had swiped months ago. Blaine had managed to distract him and slip the keys back into his dad's desk drawer where they were supposed to have been all this time. He's still quite proud of that one.

But once he'd received his keys back and promised his dad (not once but three times) that he wouldn't be doing anything stupid, he'd just started driving. After having made a coffee for Kurt that he wasn't sure he'd actually be dropping off, but just in case – And then had ended up here, after all. Funny how these things work out sometimes.

And now he's sitting in Kurt's kitchen, watching Kurt make pancakes, and his stomach drops at the thought that quite soon, he'll be the one making the pancakes while Kurt prepares himself for another day at work. Or class. Or whatever. His previously good mood darkens a little.

There are times when he can just – forget. About everything that his future is now, and everything it will never be. His future is flipping pancakes and scrubbing the kitchen floor. Not what he had dreamed of when he was little.

He knows there are still things he can do. He knows that his life isn't going to end the day he gets married. It's still a fucking lousy deal and he thinks he's entitled to mourn the future that has been taken from him for as long as he fucking feels like it.

“Tisch actually has a glee club for wives,” Kurt breaks the silence.

Blaine looks up at him, startled out of his silent brooding. “What?”

Kurt shrugs, looking at him from where he's standing at the stove. “I – looked up their wives' activities on the website. They have a glee club. And a book club. And all kinds of sports, if that's your kind of thing -”

“Why would I want to join a glee club?” Blaine asks. “Why have you even been looking?” He doesn't know how he feels about this. He knows Kurt means well, but it feels a bit like meddling. He doesn't need anyone to make his decisions for him.

“No reason,” Kurt tells him. “I just wanted to know. And I thought – I wanted to be sure there was something there for you. Have you looked at it yet?”

Blaine shakes his head. He has, but that's not something Kurt needs to know right now. It feels like his last bit of freedom and he wants to keep it for himself. “I'll figure it out once we get there.”

“Okay,” Kurt says. “I just thought – I don't know. You seem to like glee club and I know you love books – I'm sorry, am I overstepping?” he asks, obviously sensing that something about this conversation doesn't sit quite right with Blaine.

“I do kind of like glee club,” Blaine deflects. “If you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll deny it.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Kurt winks at him and turns back to flipping pancakes. “I'm glad you like it though. And you hardly ever miss a rehearsal, so that kind of gives it away with the way you're skipping every other class -”

It's true, Blaine thinks, he almost always shows up for glee. It's the one class he can actually stand because with the way Mr Schuester is running it, they're allowed to do pretty much whatever they want in there. And that's exactly his kind of class.

“You always miss Tuesdays, though,” Kurt continues, sounding like he's just thinking out loud. “What is that all about? Is that the day you have a standing appointment to hang out behind the Lima Bean and look menacing?”

Blaine laughs. “Maybe,” he says and leaves it at that. He does have a standing appointment on Tuesday afternoons, but it's not behind the Lima Bean. It's in a neat little house on the other side of town where his new therapist has his practice. He doesn't tell Kurt that. They may be friends now, but the fact that this is something he needs to do is not something he's going to advertise. It's bad enough that his parents are making him go at all. At least the fact that he hadn't missed an appointment in a month has earned him his car keys back. So he is getting something out of it, now that he thinks about it.

Blaine is relieved when the conversation turns to less precarious topics over breakfast.

**

“So, Mercedes just texted me,” Kurt says, looking at Blaine over his phone across the kitchen table. “She wants to know if we want to watch a movie with her later.”

Blaine snorts. “You mean she wants to know if _you_ want to see a movie with her later.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow at him and shoves his phone in front of Blaine's face.

There's a text from Mercedes that reads: _We're bored, come over and watch a movie with us this afternoon. Sam wants to know if Blaine has seen The Hobbit yet, he has the dvd._

“Oh,” Blaine says. “Yes, I've seen The Hobbit.”

“Thank god,” Kurt sighs. “Every time Sam is there we have to watch either that or Star Wars and I -”

“What's wrong with Star Wars?”

“Nothing.” Kurt shrugs. “I just don't want to watch it five times in a row.”

“I've totally done that,” Blaine confesses.

Kurt shakes his head at him. “Of course you have.”

“And I said I have _seen_ The Hobbit, not that I don't want to see it again!” Not that he's really in the mood for it right now, or even in the mood to hang out with Sam and Mercedes. They're such a perfect couple it's exhausting to even look at them sometimes.

“Too late,” Kurt says, typing away at his phone. “I'm already telling her to pick something else.”

Blaine lunges across the table, grabbing for Kurt's phone. “We'll see about that!”

Kurt slips out of his chair, dancing a few feet away, still typing. He grins. “Ha. You have to be faster than that.”

Oh, challenge accepted, Blaine thinks, jumping up and beginning to chase a laughing Kurt around the kitchen table.

**

“Do you want to drive?” Blaine asks, offering Kurt the keys as they're heading out to meet up with Sam and Mercedes.

Kurt stares at the keys in Blaine's outstretched hand, then up at Blaine. “Um. What?”

Blaine leans in a little closer, meeting Kurt's eyes with a very serious expression on his face. “Do. You. Want. To. Drive?” he repeats, very slowly. “Do you want to drive my car, Kurt? It's that big black shiny thing standing over there. It's a means of transportation. You see, you open the door and get inside, and there are those pedals and a big wheel thing -”

“Jerk!” Kurt laughs and punches him in the arm. “I just – it's _your car_. That you haven't been allowed to drive in months. Are you sure you want to let _me_ -”

“I've been driving around all morning,” Blaine says, shrugging. “And I know you really want to.”

“But Blaine -”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Then take the damn keys, Kurt. Come on. You can do it.” He dangles the keys in front of Kurt's face, grinning. “I know you want to!”

Kurt snatches the keys out of Blaine's hands, looking actually kind of excited. “Okay.”

“See, that wasn't so difficult.”

“You're seriously weird,” he tells Blaine, but there's some warmth behind the words.

“I know.” Blaine bumps their shoulders together as he walks past Kurt and out the front door. “At least I keep things interesting.”

“Well, that's true,” Kurt agrees, following him outside.

Blaine grins to himself as he gets in on the passenger side. Sometimes, it's so easy to make Kurt smile. He finds that he rather enjoys doing it. He doesn't question why. Those are the questions he's stopped asking himself a long time ago.


	18. Eighteen

Kurt's audition is on a Saturday, and it's actually held in Columbus for a large part of the Midwestern area. While that's fortunate because it means he doesn't have to drive far or spend money on a plane ticket, it is also a bit disappointing because it means he won't have to go to New York for it. He had kind of been looking forward to New York. And he can't even go to Columbus with Mercedes, because her audition is scheduled for Friday afternoon.

Blaine looks up from Kurt's bedroom floor, lowering the book he's been reading all afternoon ( _Tales of the City_ ), watching him as he broods over his letter. “What's up?”

Kurt meets his eyes, sighing. He feels a little silly being upset about the location and timing of his audition, because after all, it's an _audition_ to his _dream school_. “Nothing. I'm just being stupid.”

“You wanted to go to New York for your audition,” Blaine says, and Kurt feels his jaw drop a little.

“Actually, yes,” he admits. “How did you know?”

Blaine just grins at him, raising one of his rather impressive eyebrows. “You've been talking about nothing but New York for days now, Kurt. Weeks actually, ever since you got that first letter. It wasn't really that hard to figure out. You do know that you're going to get to _live_ in New York if you do well at this audition, right?”

Kurt nods. “Actually, we both will get to live in New York if I do well on this audition. So maybe you should be a little more enthusiastic about it as well.”

“Oh, but I am,” Blaine says. “I do want to live in New York. That's why it's making me just a tad nervous that you're just sitting here sulking about Columbus instead of working on the perfect number to blow them away.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he does drop the letter to scramble off his bed. “You have a point,” he admits. “Help me make the final decision for the perfect song?”

Blaine snaps his book shut, gasping his fake shock and staring wide-eyed. “Don't tell me you haven't even started yet. What's wrong with you, Kurt?”

Kurt just gives him a look. “I have started _months_ ago, as you very well know. But I have been practicing a number of different things, and now that I have an actual date for the audition, I believe it's time to cut it down a little, I only have a week left to prepare, after all.”

“Okay. That means you can still go in an entirely different direction -”

“No punk rock!”

“It might give you just the edge you need -”

“Blaine -”

“Okay, okay. Show me what you've been working on.”

That night, Blaine hesitates for a minute before walking out of Kurt's room, book in hand and about to say goodnight. “I know I haven't been – the most supportive friend about all of this,” he says, and Kurt doesn't even care what he's going to say next, not even if he tells him now that he's changed his mind about New York, because this is the first time Blaine has admitted that they're friends. It's kind of a really huge deal.

“That's okay,” he hurries to say, but Blaine shakes his head.

“I just wanted to say good luck, I guess.” He shrugs, a little embarrassed lift of his shoulders. “I do hope you get in. I know you're really good and you do deserve it.”

“Blaine.” Kurt doesn't quite know what to say to that – hearing this from Blaine who really has every right to be less than thrilled about Kurt getting into Tisch because it means that he can't – that really means a lot. “Thank you!”

“Yeah, well.” Blaine's grin is a little crooked and he stares at the floor rather than at Kurt. “I just wanted to say it.”

Kurt holds his breath for a second before finally gathering the courage to ask what he's wanted to ask all afternoon, ever since they got back from school and he found the letter in his mailbox. “Do you maybe want to go with me?” he asks.

Blaine blinks up at him, confused. “Um, I thought that was the whole point? I mean, we kind of have to live together when we're married and we already had the New York conversation weeks ago -”

“No.” Kurt shakes his head. “No, I don't mean New York. I meant Columbus. Do you – I was just wondering if you'd maybe accompany me to, um. My audition. I – don't really want to go alone and you're – I'd really like you to be there. I understand if that's too weird or if you just can't, I completely understand. I'm just saying that I don't want to go alone and if I could choose who goes with me -”

“Okay,” Blaine interrupts him and Kurt finally gathers the nerve to meet his eyes. Blaine's are clear and a little amused and fixed on his face.

“What?”

Blaine shrugs again. “I said okay. I can even drive us. Get my car out of the garage for a bit. And there's this music store I'd been meaning to check out anyway, maybe we can stop there on the way back?”

“Yeah, yes.” Kurt laughs, relieved. “Absolutely. Sounds great.”

“Cool.” Blaine gives him another grin, then opens the door to the hallway at last. “See you tomorrow, Kurt.”

“See you at school,” Kurt says, waiting until the door closes behind Blaine before letting out a long sigh of relief. That went better than he'd thought it would.

**

The next Saturday, Blaine picks him up early in the morning, waiting out in the driveway with a smile and a travel mug filled with coffee from his parents' magic coffee maker.

“You're so awesome,” Kurt tells him with a sigh, accepting the mug with an answering smile of his own. “Just what I needed.”

“Hmm, I thought so.” Blaine laughs, opening the driver's side door to get back behind the wheel. “Well, get in, then. It's a long drive to Columbus. Don't wanna be late.”

“Oh god no,” Kurt agrees, hurrying around the car, hands shaky with nervousness. This is it. His big chance. He's strangely glad to know that Blaine will be there through all of it. Blaine who doesn't seem to take anything too seriously. He's exactly the kind of company Kurt needs today.

**

“Are you nervous?” Blaine asks, smirking at him as Kurt waits in the hallway, standing a little apart from his competitors or possible classmates, pressing his hands to his stomach and exhaling slowly.

Kurt glares at him. “What do you think?”

Blaine shoves his hands into his pockets, kind of enjoying this, if he's being quite honest. Kurt, who always has such a firm hold of everything in his life, in a situation that he can only influence so much. The outcome of this is completely out of their control. (Blaine doesn't honestly believe that they could reject Kurt. His talent is unique and extraordinary and it's very unlikely that there are many more people applying who can do exactly what Kurt can do. But he doesn't tell him that, seeing him sweat and squirm like this is just much too amusing.) “I think you're going to do a lot better if you calm down a little.”

Kurt grimaces. “You're right. I just – I've been hoping for this for so long and I don't want to screw it up.”

“Then don't.” Blaine bumps their shoulders together, grinning up at him. “Remember, it's my future too. If you fuck this up, we'll both be screwed.”

“So no pressure, then,” Kurt says, hands pressing back against his stomach.

Blaine reaches out to pry them away, looking Kurt firmly in the eyes. “Oh, there's a lot of pressure,” he says. “Believe me. I absolutely expect you to be amazing in there and if you're not, our friendship is _so_ over. I'll ask Puck to marry me instead. He'll do it if I ask him.”

Kurt laughs, face relaxing a little. “I knew bringing you along was a good idea. You always -”

At that moment his name is called, and Blaine gives his hands a quick squeeze, Kurt twitching his mouth in something that is probably supposed to be a smile, and then he's alone in the hallway. Well, not really alone, there are still a sizable number of people waiting for their call. But Blaine keeps away from them, fishing his phone out of his pocket for a few rounds of Candy Crush instead. This will only take a few minutes, and then they can check out that music store and then _hopefully_ have lunch somewhere because breakfast was hours ago and he's starving.

**

Kurt looks – pale, when he comes out into the hallway again, but there's a sparkle in his eyes that Blaine knows from every time Kurt ever gets a solo in glee club, and he's smiling. It's a small, subdued smile, and Blaine knows it's because he doesn't dare hope too much, but he also knows this means it went well.

“How did it go?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Okay, I think,” Kurt says, stopping in front of him, staring at the floor and bouncing a little on his feet. “I think they liked me. I'll get a letter within the next two or three weeks, so hopefully still before graduation.” He sighs.

“So then now we wait?” Blaine asks.

“Now we wait,” Kurt confirms. “Oh god. I mean, I still want to get in, but you have no idea how relieved I am that this is done.” He laughs. “I feel so much better now.”

For a moment, their eyes meet and Blaine smiles at him, but then his stomach makes a loud grumbling noise. “I'm really hungry,” he remembers. “Aren't you hungry?”

“Starving!” Kurt groans. “Okay, let's get out of here, I think I saw a diner on the way here, just a little way down the street.”

**

“I've been thinking about starting a band,” Blaine says completely out of the blue as they're sitting opposite each other in a small, shabby diner in the middle of Columbus.

Kurt looks up from his plate of fries. “What?”

Blaine shrugs, takes a bite of his sandwich and chews for a long time before he swallows and speaks again. “In New York. Once we're there. I'd like to be in a band. You wanted to know what my plans are, and this is something I've been thinking about kind of a lot.”

“Oh.” Kurt takes a long sip from his soda, processing this new information, a little surprised that they're having this conversation right now apparently. After weeks of Blaine avoiding even the mention of his own future. But he's glad Blaine has thought about it anyway. “That's nice. I think that's a great idea,” he says.

Blaine nods. “It's just one thing I really want to be doing and it shouldn't interfere with my other – _duties_.” He makes air quotes around the word, then grins sarcastically. “I promise I'll try to have dinner ready every night when you come home.”

Kurt's heart hurts at the withdrawn expression on Blaine's face, the way he feels the need to put all his walls up immediately every time after showing Kurt little pieces of himself. He leans forward, giving Blaine a stern look. “Fuck dinner, okay?” he says. “I don't care if I have to get take-out every second day, I can probably pick it up on my way home, I expect that won't be a problem in New York. Or you can pick it up on your way home from rehearsal. Because you will find that band and you'll be amazing.”

“Is that an order?” Blaine asks, lifting his chin challengingly, even though Kurt can tell that he's pleased.

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Okay, look. How we conduct our lives is nobody's business but our own. I know you can't legally apply for a job or get a degree. But seriously, Blaine, I don't know how many more ways I can say this. Do your own thing. Be in a band. Volunteer somewhere. Write books. Just – whatever you want, okay? I'm not expecting you to sit at home the entire time. I want you to be happy.”

Blaine looks at him for a long time, his face unreadable. “Okay,” he says finally, and he isn't smiling, but he still looks pleased. “Okay.”

“Good.” Kurt turns his attention back to his food, thinking that if he just repeats this often enough, Blaine eventually has to start believing him.

**

They drive by the music store on their way home and Kurt watches as Blaine plays almost every guitar in the store, plucks a few random notes from a piano himself. In the end, he picks up some sheet music and Blaine gets himself a set of new guitar strings.

They listen to music on their way home – Kurt had made a playlist for them ages ago, a bit of Broadway for both of them, and it isn't long before they start singing along.

He's really glad that Blaine came with him today.


	19. Nineteen

Graduation is only a few days away and once they have their high school diplomas, there are only eight weeks left until their wedding – Kurt knows they should really start planning. But somehow, every time he opens his mouth to bring the topic up with Blaine, something seems to be stopping him. Like he just can't do that to Blaine, remind him of all this. Things between them are going so well and Kurt doesn't want to risk that. He might not have thought it possible some weeks ago, but he's really come to rely on Blaine as a friend. He likes him. It wasn't a lie when he told him that, he really, genuinely likes Blaine. And whatever fragile friendship they have built between themselves, he does not want to screw it up.

So he helps Mercedes plan her wedding instead – she and Sam are getting married a week after graduation (right before Kurt's birthday), no reason to put it off any longer than that. They're in love and they had been hoping for so long to be paired together, and for them this is something that cannot happen quickly enough.

So Kurt emails her song suggestions for a reception playlist and tries not to be too jealous. Because seriously? All things considered he could have been a lot more unlucky. At least he got a new really great friend out of this. Because Blaine is a very good friend to have, in his own Blaine-ish way.

**

They spend a lot of time with Sam and Mercedes, during the days leading up to graduation.

While Kurt and Mercedes are in her room, Mercedes in her wedding dress and Kurt on his knees in front of her putting in pins where the waist needs to be taken in a little, Blaine is being helpful by keeping Sam company and playing video games with him downstairs in Mercedes' parents' living room. He's been coming over a lot more often lately when Kurt goes to hang out with Mercedes, and it does look like he and Sam have struck up a very tentative friendship – Sam pretty much follows Blaine everywhere, always trying to impress him with his dorky knowledge of animated movies and comic book characters. And Blaine lets him trail after him, a fondly exasperated expression on his face while he listens to him as if Sam is the younger brother he just cannot get rid of because his parents put him on babysitting duty.

But after rejoining them in the living room, Kurt watches from under his lashes while he pretends to go over the seating arrangements with Mercedes, and he knows Blaine well enough by now to recognize that secretly delighted sparkle in his eyes whenever he's talking with Sam. It's obvious to anyone who looks closely enough that Blaine likes Sam. They're becoming friends. And Kurt knows how difficult that is for Blaine, because Blaine trusts no one. Which just makes him so – weirdly proud, to see Blaine try like that. Open himself up like that to someone he doesn't have to get along with if he doesn't want to. He likes watching them. He likes seeing Blaine smile.

“...And we really can't agree about the cake, Sam wants chocolate but I think it's a summer wedding, and something like coconut or pineapple might just be much more suitable -”

Kurt looks up at Mercedes, focusing back on the problem at hand. “Coconut cake with chocolate ice cream on the side?” he suggests.

Sam's head snaps up and he nods enthusiastically over at them. Mercedes beams. “You're a genius. I knew there was a reason I made you help me plan this.”

“What about our cake?” Blaine asks. “We haven't decided on one yet.”

Kurt does his best to keep his smile small even though it wants to just burst out of him. “We have time for that,” he says, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “If you have any ideas, you should write them down and then we can talk about it later.” But inside his chest his heart is tap dancing – this is the first time Blaine has brought up the topic of their wedding in a completely lighthearted and casual way. If Kurt needed any proof that Blaine was starting to feel comfortable around him, he'd just gotten it. And he goes back to Mercedes' seating chart and smiles to himself.

**

“Do you have any plans for graduation?” Kurt asks, settling onto Blaine's carpet with his back against the bed frame and pulling his bag closer to rummage through it for his magazine.

Blaine yawns where he's sitting on the floor with his back against the desk, cards his fingers through his hair, shakes his head. It's a Wednesday afternoon and they only have days left at high school – it's a weird feeling. Blaine isn't sure he likes it. Once he stops being a student, he'll never be a 'real' student again. He can take classes at college, but he can't get a degree. He knows Tisch offers wives' classes for basically everything. He could learn about music or acting or singing or whatever the fuck he wants. It's just all a bit pointless in the end, isn't it? He's not sure he wants to spend that kind of money, even if the wives' classes really aren't expensive at all.

“I was going to go to New York with Puck, but he can't now,” he tells Kurt. “Quinn is making him go with her on this vacation trip with her parents. It's just five days or something, but I think Puck is just about ready to leave the state and change his name. And maybe his face.”

Kurt frowns over at him. “He doesn't want to be with Quinn?”

Blaine picks up his book ( _The Shadow of the Wind_ ) and shrugs. “No, I think he genuinely loves her. It's her parents who are driving him crazy. They're a bit -”

“I've met them,” Kurt says. “A while ago, back when Quinn was pregnant. They seemed – exhausting.”

“Yeah, they're thinking about leaving for L.A. right after their trip – I think they just want to put as much distance between themselves and Quinn's parents as possible.”

Kurt lowers his magazine. “Didn't Puck want to go to New York too to find a job there?”

Blaine shakes his head. “He'd thought about it, but I think that's pretty much off the table. Quinn doesn't want New York, she prefers California.”

“I'm sorry,” Kurt says, sounding like he really means it. “I know he's your best friend. That kind of sucks.”

Blaine sighs, shrugging his shoulders. It does suck, but he's suspected for quite a while that Puck wouldn't be able to follow through with their New York plans. He's resigned himself to going without him. “It's okay. I won't be on my own.”

Kurt looks weirdly touched at that and Blaine lowers his eyes to his book, embarrassed. Sometimes Kurt acts as if the fact that they're friends now is the greatest thing on this earth when really, it is just an inevitability, isn't it? Sure, he likes Kurt, which is really fortunate, because even if he didn't, he'd still have been forced to do his best to become friends with him. Otherwise his life would really have sucked. Big time. They've just both been lucky.

“So you have no plans?” Kurt asks. “I know everyone from glee club – except for Puck and Quinn apparently – is going to party at Artie's this Saturday. Wanna go?”

Blaine slides a hand over the book on his knees, thinking about it. For the past two years, 'party' has usually meant getting drunk with Puck under the bleachers or behind the Lima Bean. But new experiences, right? “Sure, why not,” he says. “We can hang out with your friends.”

“They're your friends too, you know,” Kurt says, quietly, as if he's not sure he wants Blaine to hear. Not sure how Blaine will react.

Blaine smiles. “You keep saying that. Do you think _they_ have gotten that particular memo yet?”

Kurt huffs out a breath, lifting both hands in frustration. “Fine! They're _my_ friends exclusively, and they only tolerate you because I pay them. With money. And baked goods. _And_ sexual favors!”

“I knew it!” Blaine fist pumps, grinning triumphantly. “I can see right through you, Hummel. You can't hide anything from me!”

“Oh, really?” Kurt says, grinning back. “And you think you're this big mystery, do you?”

Blaine widens his eyes, giving him his best innocent face. “I have no idea what you're talking about! I'm an open book! Just a regular, simple guy! There's nothing remotely unusual about me!”

“You're a giant dork,” Kurt tells him, smiling almost affectionately before turning his attention back to his magazine. “So that's still a yes to the party, then?`”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I've already said yes, haven't I?”

“Just making sure,” Kurt says. “I just -” he looks up again, biting his lip as if he's not sure what to say.

“What?” Blaine asks.

Kurt sighs, shaking his head. “I just feel like we're doing a lot of things that I want to do. You know that you can suggest things too, right?”

Blaine frowns, feeling a little confused. “I'm not sure what you mean by that,” he admits. “I was actually feeling bad because you always make me pick the movie we're going to watch, and -”

“We agree on movies,” Kurt says. “We have similar taste in movies anyway. But – you know. Glee club. Going to class instead of hanging out under the bleachers. Hanging out in your room instead of – somewhere else. I just -”

Blaine feels himself blush, lifting his book and pretending to search for the right page to hide his face. “I actually happen to like glee club,” he admits. “Besides. You play video games with me, which I know is something you hate. I think we're even.”

Kurt is silent for just a few seconds. Then he says, very quietly as if it's terribly embarrassing, “Those video games aren't actually all that bad.”

Blaine grins at him over his book. “Say that again, please.”

“No.”

“Just one more time, I'm not sure I heard you correctly. Did you just say you like my stupid video games?”

Kurt looks away, biting his lip to keep the grin from spreading. “Shut up. If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll say you're lying.”

“I'll write it all over the gym walls. One last act of teenage vandalism before we're out of here forever. 'Kurt Hummel likes video games.' In letters three feet high at least.”

“I hate you. And I don't care if we never do anything you want to do, I won't try to be nice to you ever again!”

Blaine laughs. “Maybe I can still appeal our marriage on the grounds of you secretly being five years old.”

Kurt glares at him. “Oh, like you're so mature?”

“At least my books are better than your magazines!”

“My clothes are better than your – I don't even want to call those things clothes, you look like you dress yourself from the dumpster. In the dark!”

“My car is bigger than your car!”

“I have superior taste in music!”

“My hair is better than yours!”

Kurt gasps. “Whoa. Okay. That was a low blow, Anderson. Take that back immediately!” He runs a careful hand over his hair, checking that it all still sits perfectly.

Blaine grins, shaking his head. “Not in a million years! What are you gonna do about it?”

Kurt shrugs, sighing loudly. “Nothing. Maybe shaving your head in your sleep once we live together.”

“Which you would only do if you actually believed that my hair is better than yours!”

“Ugh!” Kurt leans back, burying his face in his hands. “You're so frustrating!”

“You're weird!”

“You're stupid!”

“You're stupider!”

Kurt snorts. “I need some tea.”

“God, yes, me too,” Blaine agrees, putting down his book.

Kurt gets up off the floor, offering Blaine his hand to help him up. “Oh, by the way, Carole wants to know if you'll be over for dinner on Friday, she's making burritos, and there's white chocolate raspberry cheesecake for dessert.”

Blaine grabs Kurt's hand, lets himself be pulled to his feet. “Well, in that case, tell her I'm definitely coming over!”

Kurt walks ahead of him out the door. “She'll be happy to hear that. I think she likes you better than she likes me at this point.”

“Carole is a smart woman,” Blaine says. “I am extraordinarily charming.”

Kurt laughs all the way down the stairs and doesn't even stop while Blaine puts on the kettle for their tea.


	20. Twenty

Kurt sits at his desk, staring at his email inbox and the lengthy message he just got from Mercedes about his suggestions for flower arrangements, and he thinks.

He knows he should be responding to her, her wedding is coming up in just over a week from now, but his thoughts keep drifting back to Blaine and the conversation they'd had that afternoon, the look in Blaine's eyes when he'd told Kurt Puck would not be coming to New York with them, the simple way Blaine had agreed to go to Artie's party with him because he didn't have any other plans.

And no matter what Blaine says about this, Kurt does feel like a lot of their time together is spent doing what Kurt wants. There's an imbalance there, even if it's just the knowledge of the roles they'll be having in each other's lives in the very near future, and he doesn't like it. He doesn't ever want Blaine to feel like his thoughts, his interests, his wishes, don't matter. He knows Blaine kind of trusts him by now, or is at the very least on his way there. And he knows that Blaine doesn't trust easily. But he also knows that whatever trust they've built between them is a very fragile thing and one he does not want to take for granted. Ever.

He still wants to do something. Something for Blaine. And if Blaine won't tell him what he wants to be doing during the time they spend together, Kurt will just have to get creative.

He leans back in his chair, thinking, until his face lights up with an idea. A brilliant idea, if he does say so himself. _Way_ better than Artie's graduation party.

He sits up again, reaching for the mouse of his computer. Now he just has to find the right thing. He thinks he knows just where to start.

**

Blaine can tell that Kurt is getting more and more nervous with each day going by and no letter from Tisch arriving. Truth be told, it makes him a little bit nervous too – the promised two weeks are up, have been up for a while, and if Blaine is being honest, he had really been looking forward to New York. Wife or not, New York still sounds like 'freedom'. Even if that term is relative, as he's come to learn the hard way.

It's on Friday that same week, their very last day of high school ever, when Blaine is interrupted during breakfast by a very loud knock on the front door. Frowning, he gets up from the breakfast table – his dad is in the bathroom and his mom just left for some grocery shopping, some last things she apparently needs for his graduation cake. Blaine doesn't understand why he gets a cake for graduating high school, but he's not going to turn down free cake. He sighs, making his way to the front door. Maybe she forgot her keys again, he thinks, she keeps doing that and then has to rush back home so that Blaine can let her in while he's still in the house.

But when he opens the door, it's Kurt on the other side of it, biting his lip and bouncing nervously on the heels on his feet, face flushed.

“What are you doing here?” Blaine asks, confused. They usually meet in the school parking lot every morning, and today, to be honest, Blaine hadn't expected really seeing Kurt at all, what with graduation and Kurt probably being busy saying goodbye to all of his friends.

Kurt's face breaks into a grin and he holds up a piece of paper, a little crinkled already where his hand is gripping it tightly, and he – laughs, a short happy sound just bubbling out of him. “I got in!”

Blaine just gapes at him for a moment. “Um. What?”

Kurt shoves the piece of paper closer to Blaine's face, almost jumping up and down in excitement. “I got in, Blaine! It's from Tisch. We are going to New York!”

“We are going to New York,” Blaine repeats after him, needing just a second to catch up before it fully sinks in. “We're going to – oh my god, Kurt, are you serious? You got in? We're going to _New York_?”

Kurt just bites his lip again, nodding hard, the smile so wide on his face his eyes sparkle with it, and Blaine just hugs him. He can't not. It's just a step forward and then his arms are around Kurt's waist, Kurt's arms around his shoulders, and they are jumping up and down, squealing like ten-year old girls and laughing and almost tripping over each other in their excitement.

“New York,” Kurt laughs. “We made it, Blaine!”

Blaine doesn't miss Kurt's use of the word 'we,' feels his face flush hot with the happiness of being included in Kurt's obvious joy. This is Kurt's victory, but Blaine gets something out of it too – the city of his dreams, even if he's not going there the way he would have liked to. In this moment, it hardly matters. Kurt's good mood feels contagious.

“I'm glad you got in,” Blaine says, pulling back so they can look at each other.

“I'm so happy,” Kurt breathes, and for a moment, their eyes lock and – Blaine almost forgets how to breathe.

But then Kurt lowers his lashes with a small embarrassed laugh, and Blaine blushes and drops his hands from where they had still been resting on Kurt's hips. “Thanks for coming over to tell me,” he says. “I appreciate that.”

“You were the first person I wanted to tell,” Kurt admits, not quite meeting Blaine's eyes. “After my dad, I mean. And I guess that makes sense, because it's your life too now, but I – I just really wanted to see you after opening the letter.”

Blaine feels something warm he doesn't care to explore settle in his stomach and clears his throat. “I was just finishing breakfast,” he says, taking another step back in a physical effort of breaking the tension. “Can I interest you in a cup of coffee or some burnt toast?”

The smile spreads slow and gentle across Kurt's face as he nods again, more carefully this time. “That sounds great, actually. I haven't even had breakfast at home, I completely forgot about it after finding the letter on the kitchen table this morning. Apparently Finn got the mail yesterday and he just put it on the table by the door and put his gym bag on top, Carole just found it this morning -”

“Well, follow me,” Blaine says, taking Kurt's hand to pull him along into the kitchen. “And then you can leave your car here, I'll drive you to school. That way you have your hands free for texting Mercedes the entire way there like I know you want to.”

“Am I that transparent?” Kurt asks, gasping in fake shock.

Blaine pushes him into a chair, then goes to get him a plate and a coffee mug. “No, just really predictable where some things are concerned,” he tells him, winking, which feels a bit dorky, but somehow very right in this moment. “But don't worry. I won't tell anyone.”

**

Graduation is, in a way, completely anti-climactic. Not that Blaine had had very high hopes for this day anyway ever since he found out about his future all those months ago. At least for this one day, it doesn't even really matter what he wears, since he has to put on the stupid robe for the ceremony anyway. He's let his hair go extra wild especially for the occasion, tries not to let his amusement show too obviously when Kurt tries his best to wrestle the cap onto his head.

“What do you do to make them so springy?” Kurt asks, tugging at one of Blaine's curls with a sigh.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” Blaine replies, smirking. “It's a secret.”

Kurt tilts his head at him, straightening the shoulders of Blaine's robes and brushing some invisible lint off his chest. “I think that secret is probably just genetics.”

Blaine shrugs. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

“Dork.” Kurt laughs, then lifts his hands to adjust his own cap. “How do I look?”

Blaine sweeps his eyes up and down Kurt's body. “Like you were swallowed by an enormous red robe.”

Kurt huffs out a breath. “I know, these things just aren't flattering for anyone -”

“Relax,” Blaine says, tugging Kurt's hands away from his hair. “You look – nice.” He feels himself blush and quickly drops Kurt's hands, joking, “Perfect as always, sweetheart. Now stop fussing and go read the paper, I have Bridge club and then I need to prepare the pot roast so that dinner's on the table by seven sharp -”

Kurt frowns at him and Blaine shuts up. “That's not how it's going to -”

“I know,” Blaine interrupts. “I'm sorry. I guess I was just trying to be funny.”

The corners of Kurt's mouth twitch in something that could be sympathy or amusement, and he bumps their shoulders together. “You look nice too, by the way,” he says.

And Blaine has to look away to hide the smile on his face.

**

The ceremony itself is rather short and as far as Blaine is concerned, a little boring. But for once, he doesn't make fun of the people taking pictures, goes to pose for one with Puck and Quinn because Puck insists, and then for one with Kurt because his parents insist.

He leaves soon after with his parents, waving at Kurt from a distance while he's walking off toward the parking lot in between his mom and dad who look so proud of him even if this is all rather pointless in his case.

Kurt looks like he wants to follow, but Sugar has his arm in a tight grip and keeps talking to him seemingly without even taking a breath, so Kurt just waves back resignedly.

Blaine knows they'll see each other for Artie's party the next day anyway.

**

It's after dinner when his cell phone rings, Kurt's face flashing across his screen.

“Hey,” Blaine says, picking up.

“Hey,” Kurt says. “Are you busy?”

Blaine takes a look around the living room – his dad watching TV and his mom talking on the house phone to a friend. They have exciting plans to play board games together later tonight, probably as soon as his dad has finished watching the news. “No,” he says. “Not right now.”

“I'm sort of outside of your house,” Kurt says. “I have something – Can you come outside for just a minute? It won't take long at all. There was just something I wanted to – it'll just take a minute.”

“Sure.” Blaine frowns. Kurt seems almost nervous, which is weird. It is also weird that he's just showing up at Blaine's place unannounced on a night they had agreed was one they'd both be spending with their families. He gets up off the couch, nodding toward the door when his dad looks up at him. “I'll be right back, okay?”

He hurries over to the door, slipping outside to find Kurt standing in the driveway next to his car, arms crossed in front of his chest as he looks up at Blaine like he isn't sure what he's even doing here. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Blaine answers, walking down the steps off the porch and over to where Kurt is standing, since Kurt is showing no intention of walking any closer to Blaine. “So, what brings you here at this hour?”

Kurt shrugs. “I have something for you,” he says, uncrossing his arms and pulling an envelope from the back pocket of his jeans. “I wanted to give it to you earlier, but you left so quickly, I didn't have a chance – it's sort of a graduation present, except it's not, because that's weird. I just – wanted you to – I just got those because – I'll shut up now,” he says, shoving the envelope at Blaine. “Take this. And don't make fun of me, please.” He's blushing quite a lot now, which is more adorable than it has any right to be, Blaine thinks.

“Um, thanks,” he says, taking the envelope from Kurt and opening it. Inside are two slips of thick paper and he slides them out, looks at them and feels his mouth fall open. “Kurt -”

“I know, it's stupid, and I don't even know if you have time that day, I just saw that they were -”

“How did you know?” Blaine asks, trying to catch up to what's happening. “I mean – what – Less Than Jake are playing Columbus? How did you even know that I always wanted to see them?”

Kurt shrugs again, looking down at his feet, face still red. “I saw a couple of their CDs on your shelves?” he explains. “And half of your iPod is currently full of their songs, and you sang that song in glee club a few weeks ago -”

“History of a Boring Town.”

“ … Yes, that's the one. Anyway, I was just hoping that this was something you'd -”

“This is perfect,” Blaine says, grinning widely. “Oh my god, Kurt! Just – thank you! I can't believe you got me tickets! Thank you!”

Kurt's smile is so pleased when he lifts his head to meet Blaine's eyes again, Blaine is suddenly overcome with the overwhelming urge to hug Kurt. So that's what he does, just taking a step forward right into Kurt's personal space, throwing his arms around him. “Thank you!” he repeats.

Kurt's arms wrap around his shoulders, and he can more feel than hear Kurt chuckle against his curls. “You're welcome. I'm just glad you really actually like that band.”

“I love them,” Blaine says, before pulling back. “And I can't help but notice that you got two tickets, what's that all about?”

Kurt bites his lip. “I was hoping – I'd like to go with you. If you don't mind.”

Blaine gapes at him. “Um. No. I don't mind at all. But Kurt, this isn't exactly your kind of music.”

Kurt shrugs, opening and closing his mouth as he tilts his head at Blaine. “It's your kind of music, though. I'm willing to give it a try.”

Blaine clutches the tickets in his hand, feeling a little shocked, in the best way possible. “If you wanted to go to a concert together, you could have gotten us tickets to something we _both_ like. We do like a lot of the same music, and I wouldn't have minded -”

“No,” Kurt interrupts, blushing again. “This is – for you. Just for you. I just wanted to do this for you, I hope that's okay. It's probably weird, isn't it? Oh god, it is weird, I'm sorry I -”

Blaine laughs, touching Kurt's arm to stop his rambling. “It's not weird,” he assures him. “I'm just surprised. This was a surprise.”

“A good surprise?” Kurt wants to know.

“The best surprise,” Blaine says, then blushes a little himself. “I – um. Can I hug you again?”

Kurt's smile is _delighted_ as he nods in response. “Yes. I'm okay with that.”

Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt's waist and pulls him in close, burying his face against Kurt's shoulder as Kurt envelopes him in the warmest, safest hug Blaine has ever felt. He still can't believe Kurt did this for him. Although, when he really stops and thinks about it, he totally can. This is just Kurt. Maybe he should stop being surprised by these things that Kurt does.


	21. Twenty-One

The concert is on a Wednesday night, which absolutely doesn't matter since they don't have school anymore and don't need to get up early the next morning. Kurt talks to his dad, and then to Blaine, and then to Blaine's parents, and in the end it is decided that they'll stay in Columbus over night to avoid driving home that late after the excitement of a concert. Kurt has some graduation money from his aunt that gets them a small room for one night and he's happy to pay for it, because he wants everything to be perfect for Blaine. This whole thing is to show Blaine that what he wants matters to Kurt, that what he wants is as important to Kurt as any of Kurt's wishes.

“I can't believe you're going to listen to that without being forced to,” Mercedes says, frowning. “Are you sure that's going to be fun for you?”

Kurt shrugs, pulling on his shoes after a day of helping her with some last minute wedding preparations. “Blaine played me some of their songs, and it actually wasn't that bad. I think I could like them. Also, I want him to know -”

“That he matters and that you're on his side, yeah, I get it.” Mercedes shakes her head at him. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you got it bad for him.”

Kurt feels his ears burn as the blood shoots to his face. “Oh, honey, don't neglect your beauty sleep over the wedding preparations, it makes you talk crazy,” he counters. “Or why would you even say that?”

She laughs. “I said that's what I _would_ say if I didn't know better,” she reminds him. “As it happens, I've been hearing you quite clearly every time you've been telling me he's not your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well.” Kurt grabs his bag from where he'd dropped it next to the door to put on his shoes, turning back to her to say goodbye.

Mercedes grabs him in a hug, squeezing tightly. “I'm glad you two are at least friends now,” she tells him. “Also, he's kind of cute once you look past the crazy hair and that damn eyeliner.”

Kurt presses his face into her shoulder for a second before pulling back, fighting the blush. “Actually. Um. I – kind of like the hair.”

Mercedes gives him a very weirdly triumphant look, preparing to say something, but then her mom calls her into the kitchen and she leaves with an apologetic wave. Kurt slips out the front door, fishing his phone out of his pocket as he goes. He has three missed texts from Blaine.

**

As determined as he had been to enjoy the concert, Kurt is still somewhat surprised to find out that he actually really is.

Blaine had been excited standing in line outside, bouncing and bumping into Kurt and grinning so widely the entire time, making small talk with the people in front of them and the people behind them, and Kurt can safely say that he has never seen Blaine this relaxed and open, ever.

Kurt had been prepared to just endure the concert and smile along for Blaine's sake until it was over, but the band is actually really funny, interacting with the audience a lot, making jokes, and Kurt ends up laughing for real, dancing and jumping and bumping into people who are having as much fun as he is. Blaine is – _radiant_ , there's simply no other word for it, his eyes wide and shining, the grin on his face so big he's showing nearly all of his teeth.

Kurt ends up looking at him almost more than he's looking up at the stage. He doesn't really know the band anyway. But he knows _Blaine_. He's just never seen him quite like this. And for the first time since he had, more or less impulsively, bought those concert tickets, he finally stops worrying about whether or not it was too much. Because it is so worth it, for seeing Blaine so overwhelmingly happy.

**

Blaine keeps grinning and chatting and humming and dancing all the way outside after the concert, and soon enough he has gathered a small crowd of fellow fans who are dancing and singing along with him, clapping his shoulder and waving at him once they reach the parking lot and start to scatter.

Kurt just watches Blaine for a second, a little breathless from all the excitement. “So, did you have fun?”

Blaine laughs, loud and open and carefree, giving Kurt a quick hug. “I had the _best_ time.”

“I'm glad.”

“Thank you, Kurt.”

He blushes. “Don't mention it.”

Blaine takes a step back, suddenly serious. “No, I mean it. _Thank_ you. This was really awesome.”

“...It was,” Kurt admits, and Blaine's face lights up like a Christmas tree.

“Ha! You liked them too! Kurt Hummel had fun at a ska punk concert. Just wait until I tell all of our friends -”

Kurt shoves at his shoulder, putting on a pretend scowl. “Don't you dare. I'll deny it anyway! It'll be my word against yours!”

Blaine shoves him back, then grabs for his hand briefly to give it a tug, directing him in the direction of the car. “Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

“You know, once we're in New York, we can do this all the time,” Kurt says, and Blaine stares down at his feet, biting his lip and shoving his hands into his pockets. But he seems … pleased.

**

Their hotel room is tiny and there's barely a foot of space between the one king sized bed and the opposite wall. But it's clean and they have a tiny bathroom with a tiny little shower inside, and it's just for sleeping anyway, they've already decided to check out early and get breakfast on the road.

“I'm sorry, they didn't have any twin rooms available, but I can – I'll take the floor,” Kurt explains, gesturing toward the bed.

Blaine shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders with a little embarrassed grin. “It's fine, Kurt. We can share. I don't mind.”

Kurt hesitates. “Are you – sure? I mean, I guess there's enough space, I just – I don't want it to be awkward -”

Blaine laughs. “I've passed out on a bed with Puck before during video game night. And you smell a lot better than he does, so trust me, I'm fine.”

Kurt gives him a relieved smile, glad that he'll get to sleep on a real mattress. “Okay.”

Blaine gives him a tight smile back, then busies himself with taking off his shoes, turned away from Kurt with his head down. He has been quiet ever since they got out of the car in front of the hotel, looking thoughtful but not unhappy. Kurt figures he's probably just tired, which is something he can relate too. He's exhausted himself.

While Blaine is sitting on the edge of the bed, apparently looking for something in his backpack, Kurt gets his toiletry bag from his overnight stuff and grabs his pajamas. “Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?” he asks, just wanting to make sure.

Blaine nods absentmindedly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good. I won't be long,” Kurt promises. He's not used to sharing a bathroom, he has his own at home. But he does feel the need to shower after being in a crowd of people for hours. He'll make sure to be quick, though, so that Blaine can go next, he doesn't want to make him wait. He still looks like he's thinking about something way too hard.

Kurt is reaching for the door handle when Blaine finally speaks up behind him. “Um. Kurt?”

Kurt turns around, lifting both eyebrows in question. “Huh?”

Blaine has dropped his backpack and is sitting on the bed with his back straight and his hands twisting nervously in his lap. “...Nothing, nothing. It's … nothing. I just – whatever.”

Kurt hesitates. “Are you sure? You can talk to me if -”

“I got punched in the face,” Blaine says, looking up at him, chest expanding as he takes a deep breath. “At my old school. I got teased and shoved around and eventually they put me in the hospital. And that's why I left. That's my story. And now you know.”

Kurt drops the pajamas he'd been holding onto the carpet right where he stands, places his toiletry bag on the dresser a little more carefully. “Oh, Blaine -”

“I know you wanted to know,” Blaine continues. “I just – don't talk about this. Usually. Not even Puck knows.”

Kurt takes a careful step closer, not sure what to say. “You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to,” he assures Blaine. “I mean, yes, I did want to know. And Blaine I'm so, so sorry about what happened to you, I can't even -”

Blaine smiles at him, a real, genuine smile, patting the edge of the mattress next to himself. “Come here. Story time.”

Kurt shakes his head, stops, walks over carefully to sit down next to Blaine. “Are you sure?”

Blaine leans into him briefly, nudging Kurt's upper arms with his own. “We're friends, right?”

“We are!”

“Okay.” Blaine sighs, shoulders hunching a little as he stares at his lap, and Kurt can tell that this isn't easy for him. He wants to do something, touch Blaine, comfort him, tell him he doesn't have to talk about it. But he knows, deep down, that Blaine has already decided this is necessary and will push himself through it no matter what. After all, Blaine is almost as stubborn as Kurt is.

So Kurt sits and waits, patiently, until Blaine shakes his head a little, takes a deep breath, and says, “At my old school – there was this Sadie Hawkins dance. I had _just_ come out. And I wasn't – you know, I wasn't _this_ , back then. I was – I was more like you, actually.” He looks up, and the smile he gives Kurt looks painful. “I had this friend – he was gay too. We weren't – we weren't dating or anything. I didn't even like him that way. But there was no one else so I -” He breaks off.

“You asked him to the dance?” Kurt asks, quietly.

Blaine nods. “He said yes.” His eyes squeeze shut and he wraps his arms tightly around himself. “The other guys at our school – they didn't like that much, seeing us together at the dance, so when we left, they waited for us in the parking lot.”

“Blaine -” Kurt feels himself tilt towards Blaine without a conscious decision, the tiniest little shift of his body, and he balls his hands into fists so that he doesn't do something stupid like reach out and touch Blaine. He has no idea if that would be welcome right now.

“I don't remember much of it at all,” Blaine admits, sitting up a little straighter and placing his hands flat on his thighs, studying the backs of his fingers intently. “Just – well. Mostly pain. And then I woke up in the hospital, a day later and with several broken bones and a severe concussion. My friend spent, like, four days in a coma. I think -” Blaine swallows, and Kurt can't stop himself from reaching out and putting a hand on Blaine's anymore. Blaine shivers under the touch, but doesn't pull away. “...I learned later that some teacher had gone outside for a smoke or something and seen what was going on. He called the cops and an ambulance. I think if he hadn't stopped them, they -” He can't finish the sentence.

Kurt squeezes his hand, his entire body hurting for Blaine. He has a pretty good idea of what Blaine was going to say and he wants to cry. Instead, he nods, opening and closing his mouth a few times until he finds his voice. “And that's when you came to McKinley?”

“No.” Blaine shakes his head. “My friend – he transferred to some private school in Westerville. But I – my parents didn't want me back at that school. They made me see a therapist, who also agreed I shouldn't go back. But I – I couldn't let them win, Kurt. I couldn't let them chase me away like that.”

“But, Blaine -”

“I went back,” he continues.

“They _let_ you go back to that school?”

Blaine smirks. “They didn't want to at first, believe me. But I can be very convincing when I have to. So. I had to stay home a few weeks, and then I went back there.” He snorts. “Facing your fears and all that shit, you know?”

“What happened?”

Blaine shrugs. “I started taking boxing lessons. I started talking back to them when they teased me. I didn't provoke them, I never did that. But I didn't want to be such an obvious target anymore. I didn't want to be a target at all.”

“Did it work?”

Blaine laughs. “Um. No? About a week after I was back, they stuffed me in a dumpster. They pushed me into the lockers, knocked my books out of my hands – you know what they're like. I've seen you dealing with all of the same shit.”

“Yeah,” Kurt breathes.

“And I just – do you know what it's like, Kurt, when _everybody_ just hates you?”

“Blaine -”

“I know you've had it rough, and I'm not trying to belittle your pain or anything. But, Kurt, you have your glee friends. I didn't have _anyone_.”

“Maybe back then, but now -”

“I just got angrier every day,” he says, quietly. “Anger is – it seemed less dangerous than fear. I think they can smell fear or something. Like dogs.” He lets out a broken little laugh. “Eventually, I just couldn't take it anymore, so I came to McKinley. I guess they were right all along, I should never have gone back there in the first place.”

Kurt has no idea what to say to that. So he does the only thing he can think of, and hugs Blaine. He doesn't even resist, just sits there with his hands still on his thighs, shaking. Kurt tightens his arms around Blaine's shoulders and doesn't let him go.

“I'm seeing a therapist again,” Blaine says eventually.

Kurt pulls back a little, reluctantly dropping his arms from around Blaine. “Really? I didn't know that.”

Blaine shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “I didn't want you to know. But that's why I missed glee rehearsal every Tuesday.”

“Blaine -”

“My parents made me go back when I wouldn't stop getting in trouble.”

Kurt bites his lip. “Is it – helping? I'm sorry, I have no idea how these things work -”

Blaine seems to think about it for a minute. “Yeah, I think it is,” he says. “But actually -” he stops, lowering his eyes as he's blushing.

“What?” Kurt prods.

Blaine glances back up at him, and Kurt can see how hard this is for him, can see him struggling to get out the next words. “Actually, you helped even more,” he says eventually, eyes intent on Kurt as if he needs him to understand. 

And Kurt feels his breath hitch in his throat. “I -”

Blaine is breathing evenly, controlled, as if trying to calm his nerves as he reaches out and takes Kurt's hand. “You being my friend helped me,” he says. “And – I wanted to thank you for that. And – tell you that – I like you too.”

Kurt doesn't know what to say. Whatever he had been expecting, it hadn't been this – and he just can't help the happiness bubbling up inside him, can't help the sudden rush of affection he feels for this wonderful guy with the wild curls and the dirty jeans and the smudged eyeliner who's holding his hand and looking into his eyes so very earnestly.

Before he can think about it too much, Kurt threads his fingers through Blaine's, lifts Blaine's hand with a pounding heart, and places a gentle kiss to the back of his knuckles. “Thank you,” he tells him.

Blaine bites his lip and blushes even darker, but he looks pleased.

That night, they forget to shower. Instead, they sit shoulder to shoulder in the middle of a king sized hotel bed and watch movies on the tiny hotel TV until they fall asleep, Blaine's head on Kurt's shoulder and Kurt's cheek pressed into Blaine's curls.


	22. Twenty-Two

Kurt picks Blaine up on the way to Mercedes' wedding, for the simple reason that Blaine's house is on his way and it makes more sense for them to go together instead of using two cars. Kurt has to be there a little early since Mercedes is afraid something will happen to her dress without him there. But Blaine doesn't mind, Puck will be in attendance, so he's going to have someone to hang out with while he's waiting for the ceremony to start.

“You look nice,” Kurt tells him, looking over at Blaine who's just buckling his seatbelt.

Blaine feels himself blush a little under Kurt's stare, feeling weird in a suit and with his hair actually brushed and somewhat tamed. “Thank you. So do you.”

Kurt nods, beaming. “I know. Thank you.”

“And you're so modest too,” Blaine laughs, reaching over to punch Kurt in the shoulder. But he feels better, not as much on display anymore.

“Ready to go?” Kurt asks, and Blaine nods.

“Ready.”

He had feared that things would change between them once he told Kurt about himself. Once he revealed the pieces of himself that he never showed to anyone, the pieces he had taken so much care to hide away and disguise by his shiny new cover, by a whole new Blaine who was no longer a victim. But Kurt hasn't looked at him differently once. All that's changed is that Kurt seems more open around him than he had before, as if he finally believes that Blaine trusts him and is no longer scared of driving him away with saying the wrong thing.

Blaine doesn't tell him that there's no way he could make him walk away from this anymore. He has no idea when or how it happened, but he likes Kurt. He actually likes him a lot. And, what's more, he trusts him. It's a surprising sort of realization; trusting people isn't something that comes easily to him anymore. But Kurt makes him feel – safe. Like he can actually be himself with him. It feels awesome.

Mercedes and Sam have opted for a real wedding in front of all their friends and both their families, and Blaine thinks they only get a good parking space because they're there an hour earlier than almost anyone else. He's sure Mercedes herself won't even be here yet.

Kurt laughs a little embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at Blaine over the hood of his car once they've both got out. “Um. Yeah. I might have left a bit early. I just really didn't want to be late.”

Blaine shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “It's probably not even open yet, is it?” 

Kurt walks over to the door of the hall next to the small church Sam and Mercedes have picked, tugging at the handle and poking his head inside when it actually does open. “There's still people setting up inside and they're looking very busy. Probably best not to disturb them,” he suggests.

“Hmm.” Blaine shrugs. “So what do we do then?”

Kurt walks back to him, hands in his pockets. “I don't know. We could walk around a bit?”

So that's what they do, walking once around the block and then settling on a bench at the back of the church, side by side, waiting for more people to arrive.

“At least it's not raining,” Kurt comments.

“Have you ever been to a real wedding before?” Blaine wants to know.

Kurt nods. “Of course. My dad's. When he married Carole. I actually helped planning that one. I was only ten, but I still think it turned out fabulous.”

“Oh. Right. Didn't even think of that.” Blaine crosses and uncrosses his legs, spreading his arms along the back of the bench, then hunching forward again. He's feeling restless, too much energy crawling under his skin. “I've only been to Cooper's wedding. It was nice though.”

“So this is only the second wedding for both of us,” Kurt says. “Are you excited?”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Seen them in movies a thousand times. It's pretty much the same every time, isn't it?”

Kurt laughs. “How romantic of you!”

Blaine shoves him a little. “Shut up. Of course it's romantic. I mean -” He jumps up and onto the bench, balancing on the backrest and stretching out his arms wide. “Mawwage,” he calls out. “Mawwage is what bwings us togewwah … today!”

“Blaine!” Kurt is blushing, tugging at the leg of Blaine's pants to get him to come down, but still grinning widely, barely suppressing his laughter. “Blaine, oh my god, stop that!”

“Mawwage, that bwessed awangement, that dweam within a dweam,” Blaine continues in a serious voice, before hopping down, sitting cross-legged on the bench next to Kurt. “What?”

Kurt is laughing now, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “Did you get it all out of your system now? Are we safe to go in there in a little while? Because Sam will totally play along if you start quoting _The Princess Bride_ during the ceremony and there will be no actual wedding today.”

Blaine grins. “Nope. I'm good now. But come on, Kurt. It's a classic.”

“Didn't say it wasn't.”

“You know, when we get married, I want Sam to officiate our ceremony. And I want him to use those exact words.”

Kurt is laughing so hard now, his head falls forward, forehead resting against Blaine's shoulder. “The thing is -” he gasps, struggling to get the words out through the sobs of laughter. “If it were legal … it would actually be … the best … wedding ceremony … _ever_ -”

Blaine rubs Kurt's back, giggling along. “It would be _so_ awesome.”

“True.”

It takes Kurt about a minute to get himself back under control and his face is flushed and his eyes still wet when he finally sits up again, smoothing down the lapels of his jacket. “Whew. Okay. Sorry. Oh my god Blaine, you can't just -” The corner of his mouth starts twitching again and Blaine pats his shoulder.

“Deep breaths. I'm sorry. I can't help being an endless source of joy.”

The look Kurt gives him in return is so full of exasperation and so full of warmth, Blaine feels himself blush under it.

**

The ceremony is lovely. Mercedes looks beautiful and Sam looks happy, and Kurt feels happy for the both of them as he stands behind Mercedes as her best man (together with Tina). He looks out across the rows of guests, catching Blaine's eyes in the third row. He's quite sure that if the wedding had been just a month later, Blaine would have been Sam's best man in addition to Mike and Artie.

Blaine is smiling, looking handsome in his suit and his still wild hair, and for a moment Kurt can't wait to be doing this with him. He's always wanted a wedding. Of course, theirs won't be like this. It will be at city hall. Instead of a room full of friends and family, it will be his dad and Carole and Finn, Blaine's parents and Cooper with his wife. But then at the reception Sam and Mercedes will be there, back from their honeymoon by then. Quinn and Puck will be there. And Kurt thinks he's actually looking forward to it. He realizes he's still staring at Blaine and that Blaine is staring back, smiling at him in a way that makes pleasant shivers run under his skin, and he blushes and turns back to Sam and Mercedes.

He's just always loved weddings, that's all.

**

He finds Blaine once they've all made it out of the church. Actually, Blaine is waiting for him outside. Right by the exit. And he's holding out his arm for Kurt the minute he sees him, face lighting up like he's genuinely happy to be here.

Kurt bites his lip and slips a hand into the crook of Blaine's elbow, lets Blaine lead him down the steps and across the grounds to the hall where Sam and Mercedes are holding their reception.

“She looks beautiful,” Blaine says.

Kurt sighs, watching his two best friends being hugged and kissed by almost everyone dear to them. “He's pretty hot too,” he muses, and Blaine chuckles and bumps into him a little more forcefully than strictly necessary.

“Shut up.”

“Come on. Don't tell me you don't see it too,” Kurt teases.

Blaine just looks at him for a second too long until Kurt feels himself blush. “I think _you're_ really hot today,” Blaine says quietly. “You look good in a suit.”

Kurt is proud of the way his voice stays steady when he responds, “So do you, Blaine Anderson. Even if your hair is entirely ridiculous.”

“You love it,” Blaine counters, and Kurt has to look away and clear his throat because, well. Yeah. Turns out he has actually kind of grown rather fond of the curls. _Who would have thought_.

**

There are speeches. From Mercedes' dad and Sam's mom, from Kurt and Tina, from Mike and Artie. There's also food, including an absolutely amazing coconut cake with chocolate ice cream on the side.

And later, there's dancing.

Mercedes and Sam start them off, swaying with their arms around each other and not even sparing a glance to any of their guests who have gathered in a circle around them. Kurt wipes his eyes, feeling so, so happy for them, and strangely melancholy for some reason he doesn't feel like analyzing. Other couples start joining them on the dance floor soon enough and Kurt pushes his way back through the crowd, heading for the back of the room where the bar is. He needs a glass of water.

He ends up just staying there, leaning against the wall and observing the others dance. Even Puck and Quinn are here and dancing and Puck actually looks nice, almost normal despite that ridiculous mohawk. Quinn is glowing. The two of them actually make a cute couple. And they seem to fit, in a way. Kurt knows Quinn and knows how badass she can be. If anyone can help Puck to make something out of his life, it's probably her. With her help, he might even end up being an awesome husband and a real dad to their daughter who is almost two years old by now.

“There you are,” a voice says next to him, and the smile appears on his face before he has the chance to even make a conscious decision to smile.

“Blaine,” he says. “Hey. Where have you been?”

Blaine shrugs. “Sam asked me and Mike to take a few photos of their first dance from different angles, so that's what I've been doing. Having fun?”

Kurt nods. “Yeah. It's … nice.”

“You helped put it all together,” Blaine reminds him, and then, after a pause, “It _is_ nice. You did a great job.”

Kurt waves his hand, dismissing the compliment. “It wasn't only me.”

Blaine laughs. “No. But we haven't watched an entire movie in a month because you had to deal with cake emergencies and wardrobe emergencies and flower emergencies. I think a lot of this was you. And -” he looks down, frowning. “You didn't even do it for yourself. You planned this for your friend knowing you'd never have the same thing. This is probably closer to what you wanted than the thing that we have planned, isn't it?”

Kurt looks at Blaine, staring until Blaine meets his eyes. “Blaine,” he says. “We've been over that. We have an agreement. What I want is a day that we'll both remember – if not fondly, then at least without regret. And this – this isn't us.”

Blaine sighs. “I know. I just – I'm sorry that it isn't. I'm sorry I can't give you that. I hope you know that.”

“I'm not sorry.” Kurt nudges Blaine's shoulder with his own. “We make our own rules, remember? Ours is going to be fabulous in an entirely different way.”

Blaine's eyes are on his, cheeks flushed a little, as he breathes, “You are actually amazing.” He bites his lip, lowering his gaze as soon as the words are out, but he doesn't take them back.

Kurt swallows, opening and closing his mouth a few times. He's not quite sure what to say, so finally he settles on “Thank you.”

He can see Blaine take several deep breaths, can see him collect himself before he looks up at Kurt again, his smile nervous but _there_ , extending a hand. “May I have this dance?”

Kurt – exhales, blushing to the roots of his hair, letting out a tiny, breathy chuckle. “Yes,” he says, taking Blaine's hand, and the room is spinning, and he doesn't really understand what's happening. He just knows he kind of likes it. “Yes, you may.”

One dance turns into two which turns into a third, and by the fourth one, a slow song, Kurt has officially given up trying to understand what's happening. He had kind of guessed that Blaine could dance, with his glee club past and his love for all things Broadway. But nothing he had previously known about Blaine could have prepared him for this.

Kurt has never slow danced with anyone before. He's never had a boyfriend, he's never had anyone to ask him to dance. He has thought about it. But this is nothing like he imagined.

Blaine has his arms around his waist, and ever since the end of the third dance, he's had his cheek resting on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt has his hands on Blaine's back, his cheek just touching the curls on Blaine's head, and he doesn't quite know how to move. It feels … nice, having someone this close, it feels safe and exciting and he can sort of feel the muscles shift in Blaine's back every time he moves. It feels strangely intimate.

And yet he just can't let go, he feels like he desperately needs to relax, needs to get himself under control and be cool and see this for what it is. Dancing with a friend at a wedding. He doesn't know how Blaine can be so relaxed about all of this, about them basically holding each other close in the midst of all their friends and acting like it's completely normal.

All of a sudden, Kurt feels too hot, too crowded. He takes a stumbling step back, making Blaine trip over his feet and stumble with him, head jerking up from where it had been resting against Kurt's lapel.

“Whoa. Hey. Everything okay?”

Kurt nods, laughing a short nervous laugh. “Yeah. Yes. Just – I'm sorry. It's a little -”

Blaine eyes him quizzically, hands still on Kurt's waist, before he takes a step back to take his hand instead. “Let's go get some air. Okay?”

Kurt gives him a grateful look. “Yes! Thank you!”

Blaine just smiles at him and leads him from the hall into the corridor and towards the back door.

**

There's a little terrace outside which is blissfully empty – there are no smokers at the party and everyone is mostly busy dancing or chasing down some of the last slices of cake. The sun has almost set, but the light spilling out from the windows of the hall gives them more than enough light to see by. There's a path that leads to a small garden and Blaine leads Kurt to one of the benches close enough to still be in the patches of light but far enough away that the sounds of the music from inside are barely audible.

He's glad to be getting some air. Things inside had started to be a little – much. He's glad that it's getting dark, hoping it will conceal the way his face is still slightly flushed.

Dancing with Kurt had been – He had forgotten everything else, and for just those few moments, those four songs, he'd been – happy. There's no other way of saying it. Kurt's arms around him and his cheek against Kurt's shoulder, he'd been content. And it scares the crap out of him.

He cannot screw this up. He can't. He has no idea how or when it happened, but somehow, over the course of the last five months, Kurt has become his best friend, and maybe the only person in the entire world (beside his parents and his brother) he actually trusts. He cannot screw this up.

“This is better,” Kurt says, stopping next to the bench but making no move to sit down, just throwing his head back and taking a deep breath. “It was getting a little crowded in there.”

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees. “So many people there, oh my god, I didn't even know they had so many friends -”

“The dancing was nice, though,” Kurt says, not quite meeting Blaine's eyes, and Blaine is sure that he's blushing even if he can't see it in the dim light. But Kurt blushes so easily with his pale skin, and Blaine thinks it's cute.

...And suddenly he isn't sure anymore what not screwing this up even means. They're going to be married. They're practically best friends already. They spend every waking moment together when they don't have other obligations and of all the people in Kurt's life, Blaine was the one he wanted with him for his audition. Sometimes Blaine wakes up in the morning already thinking about all the things he wants to talk to Kurt about, all the things he wants to do with him. And lately Kurt has started sort of leaning against him when they watch movies together like that's just the way they're supposed to be sitting, and, Blaine thinks, maybe it is. Maybe not screwing this up means something different than he's made himself believe all this time. Maybe he actually really likes Kurt a lot and it's time he admits that to himself.

Except the last one isn't a maybe. Kurt is _awesome_. And suddenly, Blaine doesn't feel like pretending anymore. Suddenly, all he wants is something real. Something real and beautiful and amazing he can actually hang onto in this fucked up world that keeps taking his choices from him. Here's a choice that he actually can make for himself. The biggest _fuck you_ to the system he can think of. He can be _happy_ , despite their constant effort to make him miserable. Because really? That's all he wants.

“Blaine?” Kurt says, and Blaine jolts out of his thoughts, realizing he's sort of been creepily staring at Kurt the entire time. Kurt, who had apparently been talking to him and now looks rather worried at Blaine's complete lack of reaction.

“Sorry, what?” Blaine asks.

“I was just saying, we can go home if you like,” Kurt repeats. “Mercedes would understand. I know this isn't really your scene and -”

“No,” Blaine interrupts, a little louder than he'd meant to. More quietly he adds, “We can stay a while.”

“Okay,” Kurt says, nodding. “Do you want to go back inside?”

Blaine shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says. “I kind of want to -”

Kurt is looking at him patiently and Blaine can't help the smile that's spreading across his face, can't help the way his heart beats harder in his chest at the sight of Kurt's perfect face. He looks so lovely even in the fading light of an early summer night. And Blaine is done denying himself everything that could potentially make him happy. “Dance with me?” he asks.

Kurt looks confused for a second, but quickly catches on as Blaine grabs his hand, twirls both of them elegantly into a silly little dance between the wooden benches.

They come to a stop, chest to chest and smiling goofily in the middle of the small path.

“You're ridiculous,” Kurt laughs.

“You're so fucking amazing,” Blaine replies breathlessly, and kisses him.

It's a little known fact that despite his trips to Scandals and his one date three years ago at a Sadie Hawkins dance, Blaine has never been kissed. He's just never had the opportunity. There has never been anyone he had wanted to kiss, or if there had been, they usually hadn't been very interested in kissing him. All of this means that he isn't really all that sure what he's actually doing right now. But as soon as his lips touch Kurt's he just sort of – knows.

Kurt's lips are surprisingly soft and wetter than Blaine had thought they would be and he can feel Kurt's surprised little gasp as their mouths make contact.

He presses in a little more, tilting his head for better access, lifting a hand to cup Kurt's jaw at the same time he feels Kurt's hand on his cheek, guiding him into a better position.

It's – weird. It's more personal than he expected, the closeness and the way he can taste Kurt's breath and feel Kurt's nose against his cheek and then Kurt sort of takes Blaine's top lip between both of his and Blaine ends up with Kurt's bottom lip in his mouth and it's – wonderful.

They pull back almost at the same time, parting with a quiet smacking sound, and Blaine needs a second before he can let his eyelids flutter open.

Kurt is looking at him wide-eyed, his lips shining wet from Blaine's mouth, and Blaine licks his own lips experimentally. They taste like being kissed by Kurt.

“Oh,” Kurt says, low and surprised and a little shaky.

Blaine gives him a crooked smile, his knees shaking as the shock of what he just did settles in. “I – was that -”

“Yeah,” Kurt breathes, and Blaine feels himself blush furiously. “Yeah, that was -”

He realizes he still has his hand on Kurt's face, and Kurt is still cupping his cheek. And he thinks maybe they should take a step back, maybe they should stop touching for a second and talk about this.

But then Kurt's thumb brushes over his cheekbone, just a simple, gentle caress, and the look in his eyes shifts from surprise to – something more certain and scared at the same time, the faintest edge of longing in the way he shifts a little closer.

And Blaine can't tell who leans in first this time, just knows they're surging forward to crash their mouths together again, harder than the first time.

They can talk about this later, he decides. They'll have to.

For now, they stand outside in a patch of light coming from the windows of the brightly lit hall, hands on each other's faces and kissing, kissing, kissing.

And it's actually sort of perfect.


	23. Twenty-Three

Kurt wakes up the next morning to bright light shining in through the windows of his bedroom and birds singing outside. He's slept in later than he had wanted, but he has no plans today and he's just – in a really good mood.

Rolling over onto his back, he stretches out his legs and sighs deeply, letting his arms fall to the pillow on either side of his head. The smile hasn't really left his face at all since the night before.

He remembers every detail. The way Blaine's lips had felt as they were moving against his. The way Blaine's body had felt so close to his own, his warmth, the strange new safety of his arms around Kurt's waist. Blaine's breath against his cheek as they had rested their foreheads together, flushed and panting and overwhelmed, not quite sure what was happening between them.

Kurt still isn't sure. But whatever it was, whatever it _is_ , he's excited about it and he can't deny it. For the first time since the day he got that fateful letter in Ms Pillsbury's office four months ago, he can think of Blaine and just let the smile happen.

He can think of how beautiful Blaine looks when the sun is shining on his curls and his eyes are sparkling with excitement as he talks about all the concerts he wants to see in New York. He can think of how good, how warm it feels to have Blaine right there next to him when they're watching a movie, sides pressed together tightly. He can think of how cute Blaine looks when he concentrates really hard, on a piece of music or the video games they still play in his bedroom. He can think of how hot Blaine actually is with his stupid eyeliner and ripped jeans and those ridiculous t-shirts with the stretched out necks. He can think all of those things and doesn't have to feel guilty about them anymore.

His phone is buzzing on his nightstand and the smile on his face widens into a grin as he sees it's a text from Blaine. _Good morning :)_ , it says simply. But it's enough.

Kurt texts back quickly, then gets up to shower and make himself breakfast. They're going to see each other tonight. He does want to see him right now, but Blaine has plans with Puck today that had apparently been made before they spontaneously started making out last night. And it's not like he doesn't have plans for today too, he's promised Tina to help her with a reception playlist. Her wedding to Mike is a week from now. But that's okay. He can wait until tonight to see him.

And then tomorrow, they'll hopefully hang out all day, because it's Kurt's birthday.

**

After the previous day, Blaine really doesn't feel like hanging out with Puck very much. Pretty much all he wants to do is get in his car and drive over to Kurt's and just – knock down his front door, run up the stairs to his room, grab fistfuls of his shirt to yank him close and kiss him until they're both dizzy with it. But instead, he picks up Puck around noon (with special permission from his parents because Puck is going to get married and then leave the state in a few days and they acknowledge that Blaine sort of needs to hang out with his best friend before that happens), and they just start driving.

It's been a while since they had a car to actually go places. So Blaine is not surprised when they end up in Columbus. He's also not surprised when the day ends up going by a lot faster than he expected, and he's not surprised when Puck eventually talks him into seeing an early punk show in some random basement club. He hasn't had a reason to use his fake ID in a while, but he still always carries it with him just in case.

He's glad though that he has an excuse not to drink this time. He is the designated driver after all, since this is one of Puck's last nights to really go wild before he's a married man.

Blaine finds a quiet corner once they're in the club to text Kurt while Puck is gone to get a beer. It's not like they had actual solid plans for tonight, but he still feels a little bad for not being able to see him. And there's another, bigger part of him that just – misses him with an intensity that almost steals his breath away. He doesn't know what it is that Kurt did to him. But it feels sort of awesome. Like the way his heart flips over in his chest when his phone buzzes with a reply from Kurt. He bites his lip and shakes his head, blushing. Just a simple text can make him feel like that. What is it going to feel like seeing him in person again, now that they're no longer being stupid about their obvious attraction to each other?

_It's okay, I'm still at Tina's anyway. See you tomorrow?_ Kurt has texted back.

_Yes, absolutely! Looking forward to it_ , Blaine replies.

_Say hi to Puck from me_ , Kurt writes back, and Blaine sends him a smiley face and pockets his phone. He really, _really_ wants to see him, as soon as possible. And he sort of already has a really awesome idea, and for the first time in his life he's actually glad about his curfew. It's the perfect excuse for leaving early. But for now, he has to call his mom.

**

“That's what sucks about hanging out in Columbus though,” Puck says when Blaine drops him off at his house later that night. “You never get to see the end of a show if you still have to drive all the way back.”

“I know,” Blaine sighs, trying not to check the time on his phone too obviously. He still has things to do and it's not getting any earlier. “You'll have to come visit me in New York once I live there. I bet the shows there are so much better.”

“Yeah, and you should totally come to LA if Kurt lets you,” Puck says.

Blaine is glad that it's dark because he's sure the way his face lights up at the mention of Kurt's name is obvious. “Yeah, we should do that,” he says, bumping his fist against Puck's and watching as his friend slides out of the car seat, slamming the door closed behind him, raising a hand to wave goodbye before walking off toward his house.

Blaine drives away as quickly as he can, navigating the streets home just above the speed limit. He's kind of in a hurry as he has honestly no idea how long he will even need for this. It's all a little new, not something he has ever done before, so it's probably gonna take a while before he's ready.

There's still a light on in the kitchen by the time he pulls up into the driveway, and he hurries inside. His mom is watching TV in the living room, his dad apparently already asleep. After all, he has to work early the next morning.

“You didn't have to wait up,” he tells his mom.

She looks up, smiling at him. “I wanted to. I figured you could use my help.”

Blaine lets out a big sigh of relief. “Yes! I do. Thanks, mom! Did you get everything?”

She walks over to him, ruffling his hair which still makes him squirm away like he's twelve years old. “Yup. We still had most of it here anyway. Should we get started?”

He nods. “I just need to shower really fast. Is that okay?”

“Sure, just be quick. I'm going to make us a cup of tea in the meantime.”

Blaine hesitates on his way out the door. “Hey, mom?”

“What is it?”

“You're okay with this? And dad too? Because it's not like I haven't been in trouble for things like this in the past -”

His mom just shrugs. “Well, this time, you asked. And we know where you are. Plus, it's a very sweet idea.”

He grins. “You're just agreeing because you like him.”

She grins back. “No. I'm agreeing because I think _you_ really like him.”

Blaine quickly leaves the room so that his mom can't see the idiotic smile and blush on his face.

**

It's after dinner time by the time Kurt finally makes it home from Tina's. They're not even really close friends, but now that high school is over and they're all going to be scattered across the country soon, he suddenly feels the need to spend as much time with them all as possible.

He's a bit sad that he didn't get to see Blaine at all today, but on the other hand, they really don't need to spend every day together. It's just that – he'd been hoping to kiss him again. Because, as it turns out, kissing is actually pretty awesome.

It hadn't been Kurt's first kiss the previous night. For two weeks in his sophomore year, he had dated Brittany to convince himself he was actually straight before giving up on that particular experiment and finally coming out to his dad instead, which had gone a lot better than he could have ever hoped for. And in junior year, he had met a funny and cute guy named Chandler at one of Tina's parties, apparently a friend of Mike's. They'd spent the evening dancing together and eventually kissing just a bit, but hadn't even exchanged numbers afterwards. Kurt hasn't heard from him in since and hasn't missed him, even though he thinks of him fondly. There just hadn't been any real attraction between them.

So, ridiculous as those two experiments may seem, Kurt had never considered himself to be completely without experience. Sure, it wasn't much, but it was something. But after kissing Blaine, he doesn't even remember anything that had happened before. Because nothing had ever felt anything like that. When he'd been kissing Blaine, he just hadn't wanted to stop. Ever.

He takes a quick shower, dresses in sweatpants and a hoodie, and then joins his dad, Carole and Finn in the living room where they're watching _Robin Hood: Men in Tights_ for the fiftieth time that month. He settles on the floor in front of the couch next to his stepbrother and accepts the popcorn Finn offers him.

“Don't go in the kitchen,” Carole reminds him. “Your cake for tomorrow is cooling on the counter.”

Kurt chews his popcorn, nodding absentmindedly. Birthday cakes usually all look pretty much the same, but somehow Carole still always insists on everyone not seeing theirs before the day of their actual birthday.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” Finn asks him with all of his ten-year old enthusiasm. “Do you think you'll get awesome presents?”

Kurt smiles. “I don't know! I hope so!”

“I'm not going to tell you what I got you,” Finn says. “But I think you're really going to like it!”

“I can't wait to find out,” Kurt assures him, and steals some more popcorn. “I'm sure that I'll love it if you picked it out for me.”

He ends up going to bed just after ten. It's early, but it's been a long week with Mercedes' wedding and now Tina today, and then there are all those feelings he suddenly has to sort through, all those thoughts about Blaine that he doesn't quite know what to do with yet.

**

It feels like he only just fell asleep when he's jerked awake suddenly by a noise he can't identify. He sits up in his bed, and there's the sound again, a knock coming from the direction of – the window? His heart is hammering in his chest as he slides out of bed as quietly as he can, tiptoes over to the window to peer through the blinds. If someone was trying to break in, they wouldn't knock, right? That would probably make them the stupidest criminals in the world. Still, you can never be too careful, he decides, lifting the edge of the curtain with one finger and angling his head so that he can just see outside -

Blaine is sitting on his roof in front of Kurt's window, with the wind tugging at his curls, and Kurt has no idea how he even got up here. But he quickly opens the curtains and then the window, knowing he looks way too happy before he even manages to give Blaine a stern look for breaking curfew and climbing other people's houses. “Blaine! What are you doing here?”

Blaine smiles at him so brightly, so gently, Kurt feels his heart stutter in his chest. “Happy birthday, Kurt,” he says.

Kurt bites his lip and tries to contain the grin, but it just happens to his face like there's nothing he can do to stop it. “Thank you.” He clears his throat. “That doesn't answer my question, though. Why are you on my roof? At -” he glances over to his nightstand, reading the digits on his alarm clock. “- nearly one o'clock at night?”

Blaine shrugs. “I wanted to be here at midnight, but – preparations lasted a bit longer than I had anticipated.”

Kurt squints his eyes at him. “Preparations? Oh no, what did you do?” he asks, feeling just the beginnings of dread.

“Nothing! Well, nothing illegal!” Blaine laughs at him quietly, almost completely easing his worries with a single look. Kurt has no idea when he actually started trusting him or whether that's a good idea. “Get dressed and meet me outside?”

Kurt gives the roof a skeptical look. “How are you gonna get down?”

Blaine's face falls as he throws a look over his shoulder. “Oh.”

Kurt sighs. “Come in. But be quiet. We don't have to wake everyone!”

Blaine nods and quickly climbs in through the window, landing on all fours on Kurt's carpet, quiet as a cat. “Don't just stand there, put on some real clothes,” he reminds him.

Kurt, really grateful right now that he put on actual pajamas before bed instead of just sleeping in his boxers, hurries to pull on shorts and a long-sleeved shirt while Blaine is nice enough to suddenly be very interested in Kurt's bookshelves, which are probably really not up to his standards, but he's also nice enough not to mention that particular detail.

They make their quiet way downstairs and out the front door before Kurt raises a questioning eyebrow at Blaine. “So, what _are_ you doing here?”

Blaine just grins at him, taking a careful step closer and taking one of Kurt's hands in his before leaning up and giving him a short peck on the lips. “This,” he says. “And there's more. In your backyard.”

“My backyard?” Kurt asks, not quite sure how to react as Blaine doesn't step back, doesn't make any attempt of putting any more space between them.

“Wait here?” Blaine asks. “Count to a hundred. And then follow me.”

“Why?” Kurt wants to know. “Is this a trap? Are you going to throw water balloons at me or something?”

Blaine laughs. “It's not a trap. It's a – birthday surprise.”

“Okay.” Kurt swallows, nods. “Okay, I'll wait here.”

“Start counting,” Blaine says with a final squeeze to Kurt's hand before he finally steps back, and then turns to run along the side of the house and disappear around the corner.

Kurt stands and counts dutifully, torn between excitement and worry. He's so happy to see Blaine, and the very thought that he came out here in the middle of the night just for him makes his knees weak. But on the other hand, it's _Blaine_. He doesn't want Blaine to get into trouble. And he has no idea what's waiting for him.

When he reaches one hundred, he starts walking, following the path Blaine took earlier, across the driveway and into the backyard, and – stops in his tracks as he finally sees his surprise.

There are candles – he doesn't count but he's pretty sure there's eighteen of them – in glass jars set in a circle on the grass, and in the center there's a blanket spread out with Blaine sitting at the edge of it, beaming face illuminated by a single storm lamp. And there's a cake, a big, pale cake and two plates already set out, and a bottle of something Kurt can't identify.

“What -” he says, and Blaine laughs.

“Happy birthday, Kurt,” he says. “In case I didn't already say it.”

“This is amazing,” Kurt says on the end of an exhale, taking a few careful steps closer, the grin so wide it almost hurts his face. “Blaine – you did all of this? For me?”

Blaine looks down at his knees, seeming almost embarrassed. “I hope that's okay?”

“It's wonderful,” Kurt assures him, walking the rest of the way so he can drop down onto the blanket to sit opposite Blaine. “This is – Blaine, thank you!”

He lifts his head again, meeting Kurt's eyes. “I wanted to do something special for your birthday. And I felt bad about not seeing you at all today – well, yesterday, I guess. And so I – thought this was a good idea.”

Kurt nods, unable to tear his eyes away from Blaine's face. His handsome, wonderful face. “I love it.”

“I would have been earlier too, but I had no idea that making a cheesecake took that much time -”

“Wait, what?” Kurt feels his eyes widen, gaze falling to the large cake sitting between them. “Cheesecake? You made this?”

“Uh, yeah?” Blaine lets out an embarrassed little laugh. “Well. My mom helped. I have never actually baked anything before. I hope it's good.”

Kurt shakes his head, overwhelmed. “You – baked me a cake.”

“Yes? I don't know, I guess it seemed – romantic or something. You know. Picnic at midnight – well, at night, at least – and all that crap. I just hope it's not too disgusting, for all I know I'm the shittiest baker in the world.” He laughs.

“Blaine -” Kurt looks up, hands fidgeting in his lap, and suddenly he feels desperate, hungry, impatient – he leans forward, hand fisting in the front of Blaine's shirt to haul them together and kiss him over the cake, deep and dirty and hard. This is the best birthday present anyone has ever given him.

**

They sit and eat cake and drink sparkling cider from the bottle because Blaine forgot the glasses. It's ridiculous and perfect and conversation flows easily, interrupted by the seconds in which they catch each other staring and have to look away and clear their throats and hide their giggles. Kurt thinks it may be the most perfect night of his life so far.

And it only gets better once the cake is back in the box Blaine brought for it and they are stretching out on the blanket next to each other, ankles tangling together and faces only inches apart.

“Hi,” Kurt whispers, trailing a finger down the front of Blaine's shirt.

“Hi,” Blaine answers, then leans in and kisses him.

It's still every bit as wonderful as it was all those times before. But, Kurt quickly learns, it's different lying down. It feels even more intimate somehow, especially when Blaine gently pushes at Kurt's shoulder to roll him onto his back and slides his upper body half on top of him, breaking their kiss to rest their foreheads together.

“Kurt -”

“I know,” Kurt whispers, wrapping his arms securely around Blaine's back. “Blaine -”

“You're so -” Blaine lifts his head a little, looking down at him, carding a hand through Kurt's hair. “You're just – Fuck, I don't even know how to -”

“Just kiss me,” Kurt pleads, and Blaine complies happily, his warm, wet mouth meeting Kurt's over and over again.

It's a warm night for the end of May but Kurt thinks there's no way he could have ever felt cold like this with Blaine in his arms anyway, Blaine sliding on top of him completely to cover him like a blanket as his lips leave Kurt's to suck and kiss at his jaw, his neck, the jut of his collarbone instead.

Kurt sinks his fingers into Blaine's curls and just _feels_. It's like finding something that's been missing from his life all of these years, Blaine's solid weight on top of him, and he can already feel his blood running quicker, arousal stirring deep inside as Blaine's chest rubs against his.

He knows his breath is already coming faster and Blaine is panting into their kisses as well, and Kurt can't even pinpoint the moment they crossed over from simple kissing into making out territory, but he doesn't care. This just feels – right. He wants this, needs it, doesn't even want to think about stopping.

And then Blaine shifts on top of him, lowering his hips and – Kurt knows what that is brushing against his thigh even if he's never actually done this with another guy before. He bites his lip, feels Blaine exhale against the side of his neck, and oh god, his own pants had started feeling too tight twenty minutes ago, it's sort of a relief to find out that Blaine is similarly affected.

“Sorry,” Blaine gasps, “Um, I mean, that was – I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Kurt answers, nuzzling his face against the side of Blaine's head. “It's okay, it's – I -” He slides a hand down to the small of Blaine's back, applying gentle pressure as he lifts up his own hips by just the few inches necessary to press against Blaine's thigh. “I'm, um. Me too.”

“Oh thank god.” Blaine's breath is hot against his ear, and Kurt shivers with the wave of arousal running hot under his skin. “That could have been really embarrassing otherwise.”

Kurt laughs helplessly, taking Blaine's face between his hands to kiss him once more. “Oh my god, do you honestly not know how hot you are?” He keeps their faces close together, trying to meet Blaine's eyes from the short distance even if everything is kind of blurry like this. “You're amazing, Blaine.”

Blaine looks pleased, thanks him with another peck on the lips. “So are you. But – as much as it pains me to say this, we should probably stop. We're still in your backyard.”

Kurt sighs, reluctantly letting go of Blaine. He doesn't want to, it feels too good, but he still knows Blaine is right. He also knows he'll be finishing this by himself once he goes back to bed later, and the thought makes him blush for a second. He quickly clears his throat, biting his lip. ”You're right. I know you're right. Sorry.”

“No, don't be sorry. This was – kind of perfect.”

Kurt grins. “Yeah. Yeah, it was!”

Blaine sits up, Kurt following him, leaving a bit of space in between them so that they actually have a chance to cool off.

“So, this was a good surprise?” Blaine wants to know.

Kurt nods. “It was – awesome. Thanks for my birthday present, Blaine. I love it.”

Blaine takes his hand, looking him in the eyes. “I'm glad,” he says.

And Kurt knows he's going to be tired tomorrow. But it's absolutely worth it.


	24. Twenty-Four

Kurt still wakes up early on his birthday – they always like to do presents before everyone has to leave for work or school that day. Kurt doesn't have school anymore, but still he's down in the kitchen at half past seven, in his pajamas and with his hair a mess and his sleep-muddled thoughts still full of Blaine. 

He'd left just after 3am, and after assuring Kurt that this one time, he wouldn't get in trouble, that his parents actually knew where he was and had given him special permission for his plan. Kurt had offered to let him just stay over, but Blaine had kissed him, smiled, and shook his head, promising they'd see each other tomorrow. Kurt had known it was probably for the best. As much as he wants to spend every minute with Blaine now that they have – so many options, he knows that they're kind of rushing things. He kind of doesn't care. He's eighteen years old (as of today) and for the first time in his life, he has someone to actually make out with. It feels like he has some lost time to make up for.

Carole is in the kitchen making pancakes when he comes in, smiling at him as she takes in his rumpled appearance. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning,” he says, yawning openly. “Coffee?”

She chuckles, nodding toward the coffee maker. “Already taken care of. You look like you could use it. Did you even get any sleep last night?”

He sighs, then blinks at her as her words sink in. “I – uh.”

She laughs openly now, winking at him as he just continues to stand and stare like a deer caught in headlights. “I wasn't spying on you, I promise,” she says. “I just woke up in the middle of the night wanting a glass of water and couldn't help but notice the candle light and picnic spread in the backyard.”

“Oh.” He can feel himself blush, but he's just … so, so happy. “Yeah. That was -”

“He must really like you,” she says. “That was a very cute idea.”

Kurt nods, biting his lip, then takes a hasty step toward the counter, busies himself with getting a mug and filling it with coffee, adding milk and sugar, all the time avoiding looking at Carole. Finally he says, quietly, “I think I really like him too.”

She's quiet for a moment and he looks up, meeting her eyes, which are shining with gentleness and pride. “I'm glad to hear that,” she says. “I'm really happy for you, Kurt.”

He takes a sip of his coffee and just doesn't fight the dopey grin anymore. Because last night, a boy surprised him with a birthday picnic in his backyard and kissed him under the stars. He thinks he's earned the right to just feel a crazy stupid amount of joy right now. “I'm happy too,” he says, and feels the blush rise up all the way to his ears.

**

He makes it through breakfast and unwrapping his presents before he goes back to bed to nap for another two hours. He feels significantly better rested after that, and treats himself to a long, hot shower during which he mostly thinks of Blaine, which turns out to be very enjoyable and makes him feel less guilty than he'd initially feared it might.

Once he's dressed and his hair is under control and he's settled on the couch downstairs with a leftover pancake and a fresh cup of coffee, he finally checks his phone.

He has texts from Mercedes, Sam, Tina, Mike, Quinn, and even Puck, all wishing him a happy birthday. He reads through them as he eats his second breakfast, feeling good with the knowledge of how many people thought of him today.

He saves Blaine's text for last. Since Blaine had already spent the better part of last night wishing Kurt a Happy Birthday in the most thorough way possible, his text this morning is simple: _Can I come over?_

Kurt almost drops the plate with the rest of his pancake in his haste to respond. _Yes, please! Now is good for me, if you're free._

He only has to wait a minute for a reply: _On my way!_

**

They spend the majority of their day together curled up on the couch in the living room, watching movies together, trading lazy kisses during the boring parts and catching each other staring more than once.

It's – quiet. Peaceful. It's something they've done so many times before, but it still feels new, somehow. Because now Kurt has one arm around Blaine's shoulders and Blaine has a hand resting on Kurt's stomach. Now they keep shifting on the couch until their legs tangle together and it feels new and exciting and sexy, but also sort of calming, like it's just right, in a strange way Kurt isn't sure either of them understands just yet.

After the second movie, they wander out into the backyard, both of them feeling the need to stretch their legs a little after sitting for so long.

It's a nice and sunny day and Kurt watches Blaine raise his arms above his head, closing his eyes as he turns his face into the rays of sunlight, his shirt riding up to reveal the little bit of soft belly that Kurt had already felt under his shirt while they were making out. He looks – beautiful, crazy, adorable, dangerous with the sun in his hair and smudged eyeliner on his lower lids and his stupid Reel Big Fish band t-shirt and too big shorts. He looks – like _Blaine_. Kurt can't look away.

“Go on a date with me,” he says, before he can stop himself.

Blaine lowers his arms, keeps his eyes closed with his face turned up toward the sun, and smiles. “What, right now?” He finally turns around, blinking at Kurt.

Kurt shakes his head nervously, laughs. “Well, no. My dad is going to be home soon and I think we're having a game night in honor of me turning eighteen when all of our friends are either on their honeymoon or preparing for their wedding. You're invited, by the way. If you want. But -” he swallows, just a little scared of being rejected. “Maybe next week?”

Blaine stares at him for a second, then his face breaks into a delighted smile, so bright Kurt almost feels blinded by it. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

Blaine nods, taking a step closer so he can slide him arms around Kurt's waist, giving him a short, dry kiss on the lips. “Yes. I will. I want to. Just let me know when.”

“Good. Okay. Yes. I can do that,” Kurt agrees, and for a moment, it's so awkward with both of them trying not to look at each other even though they're pretty much standing chest to chest. Until their eyes finally meet and they crack up, holding each other up as they're laughing hard enough to almost cry.

Blaine does stay for game night after dinner and beats all of them at Scrabble. Kurt is pretty sure he's never had a better birthday in his life.

**

With Puck and Quinn being busy with last minute wedding preparations and Mercedes and Sam away on their honeymoon, Kurt and Blaine have the perfect excuse to spend every day together for the rest of the week. Which is pretty much all they want to do at this point.

Blaine can't say that his view on marriage has changed or that he's in any way more okay now with the future handed to him, but – he's still an eighteen year old boy. He's an eighteen year old boy with a _really_ hot fiancé and if he's being quite honest, there's not much room in his thoughts at the moment for justified political anger or plans to start a civil rights movement. Pretty much all he thinks about these days is Kurt and all the things he'd like to do with him.

He's almost angry with himself that he had been the one to stop them that night in Kurt's backyard, because ever since, Kurt has been very careful about not touching him anywhere inappropriate. And every time they make out, Kurt keeps stopping at regular intervals, always asking, “Is this okay?” or “Do you want to cool off for a while?” And – to be honest, that's kind of the exact opposite of what Blaine wants.

Pretty much all he wants, all he ever thinks about before bed or right after waking up or in the shower is Kurt touching him in all kinds of inappropriate places. Kurt not stopping when they're making out. Kurt not asking him if he's okay, but instead just – taking what he wants, giving Blaine what he needs from him. The more careful Kurt is with him, the more Blaine starts feeling kind of desperate. And kind of like a pervert, because while he's always been comfortable with masturbation, he has to do it kind of a lot these days, to the point where he starts jerking off before he goes to see Kurt just so he can get through one of their fantastic and yet not exactly satisfying make out sessions without spontaneously combusting. He's not even sure if it's normal to be thinking about sex _this_ much.

But he can't help it, especially not when it's Thursday afternoon and his dad is at work and his mom is at a book club meeting and they have the house to themselves for hours.

He's sprawled across his bed, on his back, and Kurt is warm and heavy on top of him, smelling so good and thrusting his tongue into Blaine's mouth over and over again until Blaine is a whimpering, aroused mess underneath him.

It's really not fair, he thinks, sliding his hands over Kurt's back, feeling his hard, masculine body move against his. It's so very, very unfair to have this now only to know that within a matter of moments Kurt will stop them once again -

“I think we should cool off a little,” Kurt says just like Blaine had expected him to, panting against the corner of Blaine's mouth.

“No,” Blaine says, louder than he'd meant to, instinctively wrapping his arms around Kurt to stop him from lifting up and sliding off him. “No, don't stop, don't -”

Kurt lets out a suppressed groan, burying his head against Blaine's neck. “Blaine -”

“Please?” He knows he sounds desperate, but right now, he honestly doesn't care.

Kurt sighs. “If we don't stop now, I don't know if – I don't know what'll happen.”

“I do,” Blaine says, “And I have a feeling it's going to be pretty awesome.”

Kurt collapses on top of him, giggling helplessly. “You're such a – Are you sure?” He lifts his head, looking down at Blaine, hair completely messed up and pupils blown. “Are you _really_ sure? Because we can keep going if you want to. But I kind of want to know that this is not just a _heat of the moment_ kind of thing. This is – kind of a big deal. At least for me it is,” he adds, almost shyly.

Blaine shakes his head, craning his neck until Kurt gets the hint and kisses him. “It's a big deal for me too,” he promises. “And I'm sure, and it's not just a _heat of the moment_ thing. I promise it's not. This is more of a _you're really hot and I've had improper thoughts about you for a while_ kind of thing.”

Kurt lowers his eyes and almost looks bashful for a second, but also really pleased, so Blaine figures it must have been the right thing to say. “Same,” he says, quietly.

Blaine grins. “You've had improper thoughts about me?”

Kurt laughs a little embarrassed laugh. “You have no idea. Like, _no_ idea.”

“I'm really glad to hear that,” he says, tugging at Kurt's shoulders. “Now make out with me. Come on.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Jeez. Okay. You're kind of bossy, has anyone ever told you that?”

Blaine snorts. “Oh my god, look who's talking.”

Kurt leans down, playfully biting at Blaine's bottom lip. “I'm not bossy. I'm determined.”

“We can have this argument later,” Blaine decides, and cups the back of Kurt's head to pull him down into a real kiss, wet and deep and frantic.

Kurt doesn't resist when Blaine slides his hands under his shirt, only makes a delighted little sound in the back of his throat when Blaine runs his palms upwards along the smooth skin of Kurt's back. He's so warm and – all hard plains covered by the softest skin and, before he can think too much about it, Blaine reaches for the hem of his shirt to tug it up and off. Kurt just lifts his arms to let him, and then works on removing Blaine's shirt as well.

Blaine wiggles out of it with Kurt's help and grins to himself – he definitely likes this turn of events. A lot.

Making out shirtless is different. It's – hotter, not just more sexy but actually warmer with their bare skin rubbing together. It's intimate in a way Blaine hadn't really anticipated. Seeing other guys shirtless isn't exactly rare, there are locker rooms, public pools, guys taking their shirts of in the park all summer when they're playing Frisbee with their friends. Blaine has seen plenty of bare male chests in his life. But he's never got to touch before, not even just with his hands, and now he has Kurt's nicely toned chest pressing against his own and it feels _amazing_.

“We should have done this a long time ago,” Blaine gasps as Kurt kisses the soft skin under his jaw while his thumb rubs across one of Blaine's nipples.

“We weren't - together, a while ago,” Kurt reminds him.

Blaine nods. “I know. We were so stupid.”

Kurt giggles, then stills for a second, just breathing hotly against Blaine's neck. “Blaine?” he asks almost tentatively.

Blaine splays his hands wide on Kurt's back, feels the muscles shifting right under the skin every time Kurt moves. “What?”

“Um. Can we – I'd like to -”

“Just do it,” Blaine says on an exhale, shivering with anticipation. “Whatever it is. Just do it.”

Kurt places a single gentle kiss to the side of Blaine's neck, and then slides between his legs, lowering his hips until -

“Oh god,” Blaine gasps. “Oh -”

“Fuck,” Kurt breathes, pressing down a little harder, which immediately makes sparks shoot up Blaine's spine.

God, he's _so_ hard, has been for what feels like hours, and Kurt is – wow. He's felt him brush against his thigh before when they were making out, but this is – he feels _big_. A lot bigger than Blaine had thought he'd feel. “Wow,” he manages.

“Is this – is this okay?” Kurt asks, fingers flexing against Blaine's shoulders.

“Fuck, _so_ okay,” Blaine assures him. “Feels good -”

Kurt's hips jerk forward in the tiniest of thrusts as if he just can't stop himself and Blaine bucks up against him involuntarily, heat spreading through him, buzzing under his skin.

“ _Oh_ ,” Kurt says, and Blaine presses his overheated forehead against Kurt's bare shoulder, hungry for all the contact he can get.

“Don't stop.”

Their movements are shaky, unpracticed as they start rocking, faces hidden against each other's skin as they let their bodies take what they need from each other.

Blaine opens his thighs as wide as he can, allowing Kurt the room to settle comfortably between them, but that kind of stretches the material of his shorts uncomfortably tight over his erection.

“Can we – pants?” he chokes out. “It's just – I want to -”

In a flash, Kurt has pulled back, kneeling between Blaine's legs and fumbling with the button on his jeans, finally falling over backwards as he does his best to shimmy out of them as quickly as he can. It's the opposite of graceful and entirely ridiculous and Blaine almost forgets to take off his own pants over the rush of affection that shudders through him at the sight of Kurt like this.

Within moments, they're back where they were with Kurt settling between Blaine's thighs and Blaine stretching out underneath him, only now the only thing separating them is the thin cotton barrier of their briefs.

Kurt hovers above him for just a moment, hands in Blaine's curls as he leans on his elbows, opening his mouth to speak.

Blaine quickly presses a finger to Kurt's lips, shaking his head resolutely. “If you ask me one more time if I'm sure -”

Kurt grins. “Then what?”

Blaine shrugs. “I don't know, actually. But seriously. I want this. If you do.”

Kurt's eyes darken, the grin on his face being replaced by something serious, almost hungry. “I want this. I want you.”

“I'm right here,” Blaine whispers, and Kurt sucks in a sharp breath before he crashes their lips together, slowly lowering his hips until they're pressed together from heads to feet once again.

Blaine whimpers when he feels him – without the pants, he can feel the full shape and size of Kurt's dick pressing into him and he feels himself throbbing in his underwear because this is without a doubt the hottest thing that has ever happened to him in his life. None of his fantasies (and there had been plenty over the past few days), had even come close to the actual feeling of Kurt's cock rubbing against his belly.

There's so much to feel – from Kurt's fingers digging into his shoulders for leverage to their sweaty chests sliding and catching against each other to Kurt's hairy thighs rubbing roughly against the soft insides of his thighs. And there's pressure and friction, their underwear-clad dicks grinding together as Kurt thrusts against him at a faster and faster pace, his breathing becoming labored and heavy in Blaine's ear.

Blaine clings to him, pressing up against Kurt since it's pretty much the only thing he can do in his position, letting Kurt take care of them, rocking rocking rocking frantically and letting out breathy little moans at the end of each breath.

The bed is starting to shake as they both start to lose it, bodies working themselves into a frenzy. Blaine squeezes his eyes shut, pressure growing in his balls and at the base of his spine, and he knows he's making noises, moaning, whimpering, pleading, but he can't stop, it just feels so good so good...

The world explodes into heat and pleasure as his muscles seize up and his back arches off the bed, his mouth falling open around a soundless cry as he comes even harder than he had that morning in the shower.

His fingernails press into the skin of Kurt's back and his thighs are shaking as he rocks up again, again, again, chasing every last spark, cock pulsing in the confines of his underwear.

Kurt is cursing and groaning on top of him, thrusting down erratically, two, three more times before he throws his head back and lets out the most beautiful, broken sound as his body tenses and shudders in Blaine's arms before he collapses on top of him.

“Oh my god,” he pants.

Blaine can't speak for a moment, chest heaving and body still humming and vibrating from the sheer force of everything, aftershocks sparking through his veins. There's come cooling all over his balls, essentially gluing him to his underwear, and he knows he has to change soon. But not yet.

“That was amazing,” he manages at last. “Fuck. That was – fucking _fantastic_!”

Kurt giggles a little against Blaine's chest, nodding. “That was pretty spectacular, yes.”

“I feel kind of gross now.”

“Too bad, you'll just have to deal with that for a few more minutes. I feel much too good right now to even think about moving.”

Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt tightly, trying to ignore the wetness between his legs. “Then don't move,” he whispers. “Stay right here.”

Kurt looks up at him, leaning in to peck him on the lips, such an innocent little kiss after what they just did. “Sounds good to me,” he says.


	25. Twenty-Five

“Actually,” Kurt says, buckling his seatbelt before looking over at Blaine contemplatively, “Does this count as our second date? Because we already went on that date before we were actually dating?”

Blaine thinks about it for a second, starting the car to pull out of Kurt's driveway. “I don't know,” he says. “Did we agree back then that that was a date?”

Kurt nods. “You said we should have dated before we got married and that it should count!”

“Right.” Blaine signals, turns the corner at the end of Kurt's block, before a thought occurs to him. “No, it's actually our third date!”

Kurt raises an eyebrow at him before his face lights up just as he gets what Blaine means. “The picnic on my birthday a week ago!”

“Exactly!” Blaine laughs. “I think we can call that a date. There was food and everything.”

Kurt lowers his eyes, reaches out a hand to touch Blaine's arm just briefly. “I think we can call it a _perfect_ date.”

“Kurt!” Blaine bites his lip, feels himself blush. “You don't have to -”

“You brought me cheesecake,” Kurt reminds him. “Not only that. You _baked_ me cheesecake. You do know my feelings for cheesecake by now, don't you?”

Blaine snorts. “I've known you for more than four months. Yes, I do know.”

Kurt nods, leaning back in his seat. “I still think I should have picked you up. After all, I am taking _you_ out today.”

Blaine shakes his head. “On our first date, I made you drive us around and didn't even tell you it was a date until it was almost over. I think this is only fair. Also,” he smiles to himself. “I kind of like it this way. You can pay for our food. I'll do the driving.”

Kurt stares out the window for a second, biting his lip. “You know,” he says eventually. “We could even call this a fourth date.”

“Oh yeah?” Blaine glances over at him. “Then what was the third?”

Kurt shakes his head. “Still the picnic. But our second one was the concert in Columbus.”

“Less Than Jake!” Blaine nods excitedly. “Yes! Perfect second date! I like it! Although,” he laughs. “Dragging me off to a hotel after only the second date! And I went with you willingly, oh fuck, what was I even thinking?”

Kurt laughs, punching his arm. “Shut up! Oh my god. Also, we didn't actually have sex until after the third date.”

“Yeah, days after the third date,” Blaine reminds him. “Not that I'm complaining.”

“I'd hope not,” Kurt says. “You do want it to happen again, don't you?”

“Kind of? I was actually hoping you'd come over to my place after the movie -” It's not like they'll have total privacy, his parents will be home. But they usually don't come into his room when he has Kurt over. And last week they've already successfully managed mutual hand jobs on the floor behind his bed while his parents were downstairs in the living room. Blaine is kind of hoping to recreate that particular experience. He'd prefer an empty house and a chance to be as loud as they want, because he really wants to try blow jobs next. Just not when they have to rush through them. But he'll take what he can get right now.

Kurt, however, scrunches his nose and shrugs his shoulders. “Your mom will be home,” he says.

“That didn't bother you two days ago!”

Kurt leans over, kissing Blaine's cheek, a smug smile on his face. “No. But two days ago, we didn't have a choice. Tonight, my parents have their date night and Finn is having a sleepover with a friend. So we have – options.”

Blaine beams at him before focusing back on the road. He definitely likes the sound of that.

**

They eat at Breadstix, because it's sort of the only affordable place for them in Lima that isn't completely disgusting. Kurt remembers the last time they'd been here, remembers it quite well, actually, remembers how confused he'd been by being here with Blaine at all.

Now, he hooks his ankle with Blaine's under the table and they share flirty glances over their menus.

It's not anything like the dates Kurt had imagined back when he'd been alone – in his head, he had usually been sitting across from a (faceless) guy in beautiful clothes and well-styled hair, someone popular enough to have a million friends who still chose to spend most of his time with Kurt anyway, someone polite and well-spoken who held doors open for him and blushed prettily when Kurt brought him flowers.

But instead, across from him is Blaine, whose idea of dressing up for a date is putting on a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt without a band logo on it. He isn't wearing eyeliner tonight (and Kurt almost misses it), but his hair is as wild as ever, and Kurt isn't sure whether he wants to tell him he needs a haircut or just encourage him to let it grow even longer so he can better bury his hands in it when they hug or make out.

Blaine is not even remotely the kind of guy Kurt had ever pictured himself falling for. And yet, he cannot deny that that's what's happening here – has been happening for a while, if he's being completely honest with himself.

“You know, it's funny,” Blaine says, jolting Kurt from his reverie.

“What?”

“How long we've been dating without actually knowing that we were dating.”

Kurt laughs. “Yeah. That's – I don't know. How did we not notice that?”

Blaine shrugs. “I thought you didn't like me!”

Kurt grins at him. “And I thought that _you_ thought I didn't like you. Also, I wasn't quite sure I _actually_ liked you. Until – well, until I was.”

“Well, what can I say?” Blaine grins back, trying to appear nonchalant. “I win most people over in the end. I'm a pretty likeable guy.”

“Actually,” Kurt breathes, heart flipping in his chest, “You are.”

“Oh.” Blaine looks down to where his fingers are picking the lamination off the edge of the menu, obviously flustered, which is an adorable look on him. “Um.”

Kurt reaches over to cover Blaine's hand with his own. “Don't be embarrassed, it's a good quality.”

Blaine chuckles. “You're such a liar. But thank you. That's very sweet of you.”

The waitress arrives to take their orders, and for a while, they're too distracted to keep up their flirting. Kurt is almost grateful for it. He still gets overwhelmed when he thinks of how quickly everything has been moving lately. He's glad they got to this point in their relationship. But it's so new, and sometimes he feels like it hasn't really sunk in yet.

He's sure he'll get there. Quickly, with the speed at which they're moving.

**

The house is empty as promised when they get home and Kurt breathes a sigh of relief. He really does want to be alone with Blaine for a while and he had secretly been worrying that his parents would decide to postpone their date night at the last minute, or do something silly like have a date in the living room, or suddenly get the flu and stay home. Not that he thinks they mean to check up on him and Blaine, but ever since the night Blaine first kissed him, it has either been exceedingly difficult finding proper alone time or Kurt is just very much more aware of anyone else being in the same room with them. He's not sure which one it is, and he doesn't really care. For now, he's just happy to find that he and Blaine do have the house to themselves for once.

They swing by the kitchen to get drinks and just end up leaning against the counter next to each other, sipping their sodas and waiting for the other to make the first move.

“So, what do you want to do?” Blaine asks eventually.

Kurt shrugs. “Whatever you want. We could watch a movie – but we just saw one. So maybe not. We could – I don't know, any ideas?”

Blaine shakes his head, placing his glass in the sink carefully. “Not really.”

Kurt laughs. “Is this awkward? It feels awkward.”

Blaine nods, laughing along and lifting his hands in a helpless gesture. “What the fuck happened? A minute ago we were fine!”

“I know, right? Ugh.” Kurt reaches for him, tugging him close and sliding his arms around his waist. “Come here. Maybe we just need to -” He leans in, kissing Blaine slowly, almost carefully.

Blaine makes a contented little sound and presses in closer, nipping at Kurt's bottom lip when he tries to pull back. “That's better,” he whispers.

Kurt hugs him in closer, shivering a little when Blaine's hands slide from his chest over his sides and under his arms to cup his shoulders from behind. He feels – safe. “I like this,” he whispers.

Blaine hums in response, then suddenly jerks back, face lighting up. “I have an idea! Come on!”

Kurt just has the time to look confused before Blaine tugs him through to the living room by his hand.

They end up with their sides pressed together on the narrow piano bench and Blaine teaches Kurt how to play _Georgia On My Mind_ , with Kurt being way more focused on the way Blaine's fingers move over the keys than the actual song.

“Puck and I did a punk version of this in his garage,” he says, still playing, smiling at Kurt a little bashfully. “It was fun.”

“It sounds like fun,” Kurt admits.

“We wanted to be the next _Me First and the Gimme Gimmes_ , I guess,” he explains. “You know. Making kick-ass punk cover songs of well-known classics. It didn't exactly work out. We only ever got two songs down.”

“What was the other one?” Kurt wants to know.

Blaine grins, plucking out a few chords that don't sound much like Ray Charles anymore. “Um. _The Rain in Spain_. You know. From _My Fair Lady_?”

“No way.”

“Actually, yes.”

Kurt bumps their shoulders together. “You have to play that for me one day.”

Blaine nods. “Maybe I will.”

“I'm looking forward to it,” Kurt promises.

“I like it, kind of,” Blaine says.

“What?”

He shrugs. “Taking songs and rearranging them into something – different.”

“Something punk rock?”

“No.” Blaine shakes his head. “No, that was just what I did with Puck. It seemed to make sense for us. But it's not just that. It's just – I like – different.”

“Different how?” Kurt wants to know.

Blaine smiles at him from under thick lashes, and if it's an open attempt at being flirty he hides it very well, it seems so natural. “I could – show you?”

“Okay,” Kurt agrees. Anything to keep Blaine playing. He has already decided that they absolutely need to move the piano to New York with them once he's done with school and they can afford an apartment of their own.

Blaine nods. “Okay then. If you laugh at me, I'm gonna leave you at the altar, just so you know.”

“I'd never laugh at you,” Kurt promises, and then shuts up as Blaine's fingers start playing a melody that seems oddly familiar even if he can't quite place it yet – it's slow and a little melancholy and then Blaine starts to sing, and Kurt's eyes widen in surprise as he finally recognizes the song.

“ _You think I'm pretty without any make-up on_ … ”

He sits very still, right there next to Blaine, and he can't look away, couldn't if he tried. Because he's seen so many sides of Blaine by now, he hadn't known there was still another one. But he hasn't seen him like this before, this he'd remember; Blaine singing with his face full of emotion, hands moving over the keys in a way that seems practiced and completely spontaneous at the same time -

He's beautiful. He's _amazing_ , overwhelming, he moves Kurt in a way he hadn't thought possible until he is almost afraid of breathing too loudly; he doesn't want to miss a single note, a single nuance in Blaine's voice.

There's nothing upbeat about this song anymore the way Blaine interprets it, it's slow and full of feeling, and yet – hopeful. Kurt honestly has no idea how Blaine does it. But when the final chord fades into the air between them, he has to wipe his eyes, grinning into the back of his sleeve as Blaine smirks at him. “Shut up.”

Blaine shakes his head. “I didn't say anything!”

“You were going to.”

“Wasn't!”

“I just have something in my eye.”

“Sure you have. So, did you – like it?”

Kurt opens and closes his mouth, not really finding the words to explain what he's feeling in this moment or what that song did to him. In the end, he grabs the front of Blaine's shirt and kisses him, deep and dirty. “Actually, you should come upstairs,” he says against his lips, voice lower and raspier than he'd expected. “Right now.”

Blaine leans in for another kiss, then nods slowly, their faces still so close that it makes their noses rub together. “Okay.”

“Just so we're clear,” Kurt says, “I don't mean to look at my sheet music collection.”

“Yeah, I think I got that part,” Blaine answers. “I just – fuck, come on.” He slides off the bench, reaching for Kurt's hand to pull him with him. “I need to be alone with you, like, yesterday.”

“Ugh, same,” Kurt agrees, stumbling after Blaine.

**

He doesn't exactly know how it happened since his plan had been ravishing Blaine as soon as the door closed behind them, and yet he finds himself on his back with his legs hanging off the mattress, Blaine kneeling on the floor with his head between Kurt's thighs.

It's the first blow job of his life, but he can already tell that he's probably going to be a fan – or maybe that's just Blaine's enthusiasm. It's sloppy and a little weird and when Blaine sinks down a little further and does something _really fucking amazing_ with his tongue, Kurt thrusts up involuntarily and Blaine chokes, pulls up, coughing.

“Sorry, sorry,” Kurt pants.

Blaine waves his hand, face a little red, to indicate he's fine. “'s okay,” he assures him, “Don't worry. I'm just gonna -” And with that he's sinking down again, sucking and licking and generally making Kurt feel like he's going to implode with arousal.

“You're so good at that,” he breathes, and Blaine hums around him, which is a whole new kind of good and sends pleasant shivers all through his body, balls tightening dangerously as he has to fight to keep his hips on the mattress.

Blaine grabs onto his hips, holding him down to the bed, bobbing his head with so much enthusiasm Kurt squeezes his eyes shut, hands finding Blaine's head to grab fistfuls of his curls. “Fuck, oh fuck _Blaine_ – I'm gonna, you have to -”

He tries to warn him, but Blaine just redoubles his efforts, and Kurt can't hold back any longer.

His toes curl into the carpet, his entire body arching upwards as he comes with his dick still in Blaine's mouth.

Blaine doesn't pull off, even though he hesitates for a second, but then swallows, his hand working over the base while his mouth keeps sucking lightly at the head. And Kurt makes a sound he'd be embarrassed of under different circumstances, and just gives himself over to the intense feeling of _good_ flooding through him in hot, shivering waves, sparks of rough-edged bliss exploding from his groin into every corner of his body.

Blaine stays between his legs until he's done, completely spent and starting to go soft in his mouth, and even then he stays, eagerly cleaning him off, licking whatever his mouth hadn't been able to catch from Kurt's balls and his softening cock.

“Blaine -” Kurt says weakly, slumping back against the mattress. “Blaine.”

Blaine crawls up to him, onto the bed and over him, leaning down to kiss him, his tongue invading Kurt's mouth, and there's a taste that hasn't been there before. Kurt knows what it is and his spent dick twitches in a futile effort between his legs.

“That was so hot,” Blaine pants, drawing back a little. “Shit, Kurt, that was -”

“I think it was much hotter from this end,” Kurt protests. “God, Blaine, that was – amazing.”

“You liked it?” Blaine asks, somewhere between shy and smug.

“Loved it,” Kurt assures him, then grabs Blaine's waist to flip them around. “What can I do for you? Tell me, I want, I just want to make you feel good too, tell me what you want -”

Blaine groans, closing his eyes. “Anything, Kurt, just – I don't need much, I'm – close -”

Kurt looks down to where Blaine's dick is hovering just above his stomach, red and swollen and a thin white string of precome stretching from the tip to the coarse hair below his belly button. “Just – let me,” Kurt begs, reaching down to wrap his hand around Blaine, giving an experimental tug. This, they have done before, but only once – it's not like he's an expert or anything.

But Blaine moans, throwing his head back, thrusting up into the tight channel of Kurt's fist. “ _Fuck_ yes -”

Kurt jerks him off fast and hard, going with whatever gets the most intense reaction out of Blaine. Which seems to be pretty much everything at the moment; Blaine apparently really wasn't lying when he told Kurt he was already close.

It takes barely any time at all before he starts whimpering under his breath, face scrunching up in pleasure, and then he's coming in thick ropes all over Kurt's hand and his own stomach.

Kurt strokes him through his orgasm, unable to tear his eyes away, his own dick trying desperately to get hard again. Which it is definitely too early for right now.

He waits until Blaine slumps back into the sheets, discreetly wiping his hand on an edge of the blanket (which he has to wash anyway). Then he leans forward, gently kissing Blaine's open, panting mouth, trembling with emotion.

There are a lot of things about sex he has yet to figure out. One of them is how Blaine's orgasm can leave him feeling so much more vulnerable and exposed than his own ever does. Maybe they'll figure this one out together. Just the way they're doing with everything else.

**

By the time everyone comes home, they're back in the living room, finishing their date in a much more innocent way – curled up on the couch together, sharing a blanket and drinking tea and talking, the TV on in the background but neither one of them paying any attention to it. Blaine just feels – happy.

Kurt is telling him about a show choir competition his sophomore year and Blaine laughs in all the appropriate places, leaning his cheek against the back of the couch and just – looking at Kurt. Because. _Holy shit_ , he's lovely. He had known that before they'd ever been anything, before they had ever even received their letters making them partners for the rest of forever. He'd seen him his first day at McKinley and actually stopped in his tracks because he'd never seen a guy like that before – someone so handsome, so perfect it made his chest ache just a bit in the best way possible. But he'd discarded the thought quickly, spent years just looking and appreciating but never doing anything to get to know him.

The thing about Kurt is, as Blaine is quick to learn, he just becomes even more beautiful the more you get to know him. And he thinks they know each other pretty well by now.

“Are you even listening to me?” Kurt asks, tugging at one of Blaine's curls.

Blaine smiles, slowly, lazily. “No,” he confesses. “I was distracted. By your hotness.”

Kurt sighs in mock exasperation. “Stop thinking with your dick for a second. I'm sharing my life story here.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Blaine mocks back. “It won't happen again. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Kurt's parents choose that very moment to come in through the front door, their laughter loud and happy from the direction of the hall.

Kurt smiles at Blaine. “You can marry me.”

Blaine smiles back, lifts a hand to run his fingertips over Kurt's cheek. “Okay. I will.”


	26. Epilogue

_Six weeks later_

Blaine wakes up early the morning of the wedding. He'd expected to be nervous. He'd even sort of expected a fresh wave of anger at the reality of his future as a wife. But when he blinks into the early morning light and sees his suit laid out on the chair next to his desk, all he can think of is Kurt. He can't be nervous when he's thinking about Kurt.

A few hours from now, they're going to be married. Kurt is going to be his husband. They're going to be a family, they're going to go to New York together and share a living space, share a bed, share the experience of finally growing up; and they're going to figure it out together. They're going to make their own rules and Blaine thinks it's going to be okay. He trusts Kurt. He wants him. More than he's ever wanted anyone in his life.

There's a price to pay for being with him, there's always a price. In this case, it's Blaine's freedom. But Kurt won't be the one to take that from him, not really.

Blaine smiles up at the ceiling, stretching his arms and legs and thinks about all the ways Kurt has surprised him ever since they first made eye contact six months ago. He'd known Kurt was hot before they ever even exchanged a single word. Now that he knows him, now that he's been introduced to all of the colorful, amazing details that make up Kurt's personality, he knows there's so much more to him than he'd ever even thought possible.

Kurt is beautiful. He's caring and gentle, smart and resourceful, funny and fun-loving, determined and ambitious. He can fight dirty if he has to, but is absolutely loyal to the people he loves. Kurt is – amazing.

And Blaine can't wait to see him today, can't wait to be near him again. He closes his eyes and smiles to himself. Not for the first time he wishes that they could have gotten their shit together sooner and actually talked to each other two years ago. Who knows where they might be now. There's no way of knowing what might have happened.

All he knows is that he's falling for this guy so fast and so hard, sometimes he feels like the ground is spinning beneath his feet.

Blaine still isn't sure if he wants or even believes in marriage. But he knows that he wants Kurt. With every fiber of his being, he wants him, he wants him, he wants him.

**

Kurt looks up from his breakfast when his dad enters the kitchen. “Morning.”

Burt pats his shoulder on the way to the coffee maker, gets himself a cup before falling into a chair on the opposite side of the table. “Morning, buddy. You okay?”

Kurt blinks at him across the table. “Um. Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?”

Burt laughs. “Kurt, you're getting married today. It's okay to be nervous.”

“Oh.” He looks down at his plate, blushing a little. “Right.” His dad probably has a point. He knows from countless movies and books that most people feel a little nervous or stressed on their wedding day. It's just that – he's not. He's calm, composed, a little impatient to see Blaine, but for the most part, he's really, really okay.

“To be honest, I fully expected you to freak out on me today,” Burt says.

“Why's that?”

He shrugs. “Wasn't so long ago that you told me you weren't ready and that you didn't know if you could do this. And you and Blaine -”

“I know dad,” Kurt interrupts. “I remember. And I don't really know what changed but – you don't have to worry about me, I promise. It's – I'm fine. Things with Blaine are fine. I think we're gonna be okay.”

Burt looks at him for a long moment, then nods slowly. “Anything you need, Kurt, you know you can always come to me. Being a husband can be – it can be a lot at first. There are things you'll have to do -”

“Dad, no, we already had the sex talk a year ago, you really don't need to explain it to me again,” Kurt interrupts, eyes wide. “Please,” he adds for good measure.

Burt grins at him. “Relax, I wasn't even going to. I was just going to say, you're not a kid anymore now. From this day forward, Blaine will be your responsibility. But more than that, he'll be your partner. You'll be the provider, but he'll be in charge of the home you share. That can be an adjustment, especially for someone as independent as you. I guess I just want to make sure one last time that you're – prepared. And I guess what I'm trying to say is, it's not always gonna be easy, Kurt. When I married your mom it wasn't easy. There were things we just couldn't agree on and figuring out compromises takes a while. And being together all the time, especially in a college dorm room, can be a little – intense, at first.”

“Yeah, I know.” Kurt shrugs. “But it's not like we have a choice. And I actually _like_ him, dad. You know that.”

“I know,” Burt says. “I know that. I'm just saying. You know, I loved your mom more than anything. But we still fought in the beginning. Because combining two lives like that, it's a struggle, no matter how much you want it.”

“So you're saying it'll suck?” Kurt asks, amused, raising an eyebrow at his dad. “That's not the kind of pep talk I was expecting the morning of my wedding.”

Burt sighs, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. “No, that's not – I'm not explaining this very well,” he admits, barking out a short laugh. “All I mean is that it's worth it. You know, there will be tough times. But if you stick it out and get through that, it can be amazing. Having someone by your side like that, it's the best thing in the world. And I think you boys actually work really well together.”

“I agree,” Kurt says, biting his lip as the happiness wells up inside him.

“Wouldn't have thought it possible when that kid first showed up here all those months ago and didn't even talk to us during dinner,” Burt remembers. “I was so close to pushing you into asking for a reassignment. I'm glad now that I didn't.”

“I'm glad too,” Kurt tells him. “Though, honestly, I was surprised for a while there that you didn't.”

Burt nods. “Yeah, well. I trust your judgment. And I think it all worked out for the best in the end.”

“Yes,” Kurt says, smiling down at the table top happily. “Yes, I think it did.”

**

Their appointment is at 2:30pm and they've agreed to meet right there at city hall. They had wanted to just take Kurt's dad and Blaine's mom as witnesses and meet everyone else at the party afterwards, but then Blaine's dad had been sad about not seeing Blaine get married and Carole had kept dropping hints about how much she wanted to be there. And once those two had been included, Finn had almost thrown a fit because now he was the only one in the family not going and he really wanted to (Kurt suspects it's more because he thinks that Blaine is the coolest guy _ever_ than because he cares about weddings), and once Finn had been invited, Blaine's brother Cooper had informed them that there was no way they were going to get married without him there and that he was bringing his wife and their new baby as well.

So now their entire families are tagging along, and Kurt had been a little surprised when Blaine actually hadn't protested but just shrugged it off, smiled, and informed them that he was still going to show up in jeans and t-shirt.

Now Kurt is pacing the corridor in front of the ceremonies hall, finally getting a little bit nervous. It's 2:20pm and there's no sign of Blaine or his family, and he is just thinking about whether or not this might be the right time to start biting his nails when the door opens and people come streaming in.

He recognizes Blaine's mom and dad, and the tall, handsome guy carrying the baby must be his brother Cooper. Which would make the curvy dark-haired beauty on his arm his wife Tori.

He cranes his neck, trying to see around them, his view now blocked as well by his own father and Carole who are hurrying toward the Anderson's to greet them.

And then they finally all move aside and Blaine steps forward, eyes scanning the corridor until he finds Kurt.

Kurt feels his breath hitch in his throat – there is Blaine with his hair wild as always, but he's wearing a suit over a gray t-shirt, purple Converse high-tops on his feet.

It's a compromise, Kurt thinks, heart lodging in his throat, fingers itching to reach out and touch, pull him into a hug and never, ever let him go. It's a compromise and it's amazing. _Blaine_ is amazing.

Their eyes lock across the room and Kurt knows his smile is a little shaky, can see the desperate little glimmer in Blaine's eyes as he looks at him, gives him a tiny wave, mouthing “You ready for this?”

Kurt nods, taking a deep breath.

Yes. He's _so_ ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so many things that I wanted to say, but all I remember right now is "THANK YOU." Also, I hope to see you around for the sequel!


End file.
